


Down the Rabbit Hole

by Dementian



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:43:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 83,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dementian/pseuds/Dementian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving to London and starting a new life in a jazz band would be difficult enough for Thomas Barrow and Jimmy Kent... even without someone attempting to kill them along the way. The sequel to <b>Up the Garden Path</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Parting Glass

Downton Abbey was built on three things: Stone, cement, and secrets. 

Certain things went unspoken and unchallenged- like the fact that Marigold was Lady Edith’s daughter out of wedlock. There were other silent stories too, such as the fact that Lady Grantham had once taken up with an art expert and Lord Grantham had done so with a maid. Some secrets were not as dangerous, such as the unmentioned fact that Branson liked to sneak radical books into his Lordship’s library or up to his room. There was also the secret that if any of the children wanted to get out of trouble or get a sweet, they ran to a certain dark haired under butler with pockets lined in mints and chocolate. The parents knew, and possibly disapproved when there was concern for cavities, but no one made to put a stop to it. They all simply had bigger fish to fry. 

Downstairs, there were secrets too- though some were slightly more sinister in nature. Like plugs in the cracks that kept the walls padded and the pillows soft, they were tiny monsters that growled in the dark but hid from the light of day, scattering like roaches till night. Some secrets were practically invisible despite being abundantly obvious. Like a perfume one might smell on the air but never see in the flesh, you could listen to the sound of berceuses being performed after the call for lights out and watch as Jimmy Kent and Thomas Barrow opened each other’s mail. Some things weren’t so untoward- they’d take their half days together and often go for walks around the village when they had a moment to spare. The day began with Thomas pouring Jimmy a cup of coffee (cream three sugars), and ended with Jimmy playing for Thomas on the piano while Thomas smoked and read from the newspaper at his side. Other things were slightly more naughty but certainly never mentioned- like the way Andy Parker could have sworn he heard a muffled groan one night followed by a bed creaking. 

I mean- that is to say- surely someone was just having a nightmare.  
A very upsetting nightmare. 

Other secrets were loud and slamming, like a door being thrown in your face; such was the way that Daisy Mason treated Jimmy Kent. Sometimes you didn’t have to be in on a secret to be aware one existed. Daisy’s criticism for Jimmy was as obvious as the nose on her face, not that Jimmy minded in any sense. Most of the time he simply ignored her and she him- the pair of them spinning in opposite circles much to the displeasure of the entire downstairs staff. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and scorned Daisy Mason was. After her catastrophe of an engagement to one Thomas Barrow, Daisy had sequestered herself from the flowery perfumed land of love and rainbows- that childlike curiosity she’d often worn as a veil had been effectively torn at the seams and cast aside to a dirty floor. Admittedly she was a little late to the growing up game, but now she seemed to be in first place as she demanded a new farm for Mr. Mason and finished her teaching exams with a hand to spare. No one got burnt toast or soap in their soup… but any comment made by Jimmy in front of Daisy was one open to scorn and ridicule. 

Jimmy would smirk, backfire, and the pair of them would be at it for hours until Mrs. Patmore bellowed, _“Daisy get back in the kitchen before I serve your brains for fritters!”_

No ones brain’s brains got served for fritters and no ones toast was blackened… but that didn’t mean things were settled by a long shot. 

Other things were slightly less secrets as they were just very odd facts that no one liked to talk about because it was so disturbing… such as the fact that Carson was desperately trying to convert Thomas Barrow into his double. 

Anyone with a brain and a pair of working eyes could tell it was a fool’s errand. Carson’s adoration for the Crawley family was completely vacant in Thomas who wanted nothing to do with the upper class despite having once carried on with a Duke. Despite being engaged to Mrs. Hughes and slightly melodramatic when it came to his romantic tendencies, Carson could keep a serious lid on his devotions and pretend he was no more than a coworker to Mrs. Hughes as they both bustled about the house. He couldn’t even stand to call her Elsie while they were working, much to Mrs. Hughes irritation. Thomas certainly wasn’t calling Jimmy ‘Mr. Kent’. A few smart ears had even heard Jimmy be called ‘Sunshine’ late at night or secluded in the boot room. The biggest difference was that Carson was perfectly content with his station in life, and longed for nothing but the continuous daily droll of servitude. Thomas, on the other hand, was ready to bang his head against the wall- 

Or more precisely, against Carson’s desk on which he was leaning heavily as Carson showed him once more the _proper_ way to decant wine. Thomas had made the atrocious error of insisting that he knew how to decant wine properly when clearly he did not. 

As Carson was determined to show him. 

“One cannot experience the magic of decanting wine simply by shifting the liquid from vessel to vessel like a sailor unloading cargo-!” Carson couldn’t have sounded more scandalized if Thomas had seen Lady Mary in the bath. He carefully tipped the bottle of Margaux upon the decanting cradle, which twist of the dial upending the bottle slightly more till wine began to flow into the decanter itself. Thomas rubbed his brow wearily, his mind decidedly straying as Carson twisted the knob just the tiniest bit to the left. The flow became steeper, more pronounced; Carson was giddy at the prospect. 

Thomas on the other hand was reenacting a delicious dream he’d had last night involving Jimmy and a pair of lady’s knickers. Jimmy had been wearing them, showing off in a mirror completely unaware that Thomas was watching from the other side of the room as he bowed his spine and pushed out his rump. He’d been enjoying himself, swaying this way then that as he smoothed out the blue satin crinkles and white bows. 

When he’d caught Thomas looking, he’d bent over even lower to offer the taut flesh of his satin covered rump murmuring _“Like what you see?”_

Yes, he’d definitely liked what he’d seen. 

It was October now, and the insanity of June and July had mellowed slightly to become less sharp upon the memory of the staff. It seemed odd to think that just a year ago Jimmy was getting kicked out of the Abbey for sleeping with Anstruther while Thomas was busy injecting himself with a dirty needle and unsterilized saline. Despite Jimmy’s determination back in July that they would continue to keep in touch with Thomas’ twin sister Margret and her two charming boys, their attempts had been for naught. Thomas trusted his sister, understood her to be a dutiful and caring mother, and knew that the minute it was safe to contact him she would happily do so. The post was too dangerous and Thomas did not know Margret’s telephone number or if she even possessed a telephone at all. Any communication between the pair of them would have to come through Margret, and at her own pace be it. Her family’s safety came first; Thomas was more than understanding. 

The oddest change of August had come with the proposal of Joseph Moseley to Phyllis Baxter. God help her, the poor woman had said yes. Clearly her brain had addled by all the fumes of shoe polish she’d had to inhale tending to her ladyship’s heels. Thomas had spent the better part of the second week of August pretending to hurl into his coffee cup every time Phyllis mentioned her new engagement and just how _happy_ it made her. 

_“Joseph is going to be a school teacher. We’re eager to have a cottage of our own. He’s just put the first installment down and we should have her ready by November. He’s such a hard worker- Thomas Barrow would you stop acting like a child?!”_

“The process of slow decantation, of separation of sediment, is a truly gratifying process by which men are made and boys are cast aside-“ Carson might have gone on for another hour and a half about the mere act of wine pouring from one bottle neck down the throat of another had it not been for the door to his office opening and causing him to be interrupted. Thomas’ savior proved herself to be Mrs. Hughes, bearing a telegram in hand and a kindly smile. 

Straightening up, Thomas threw caution to the wind and prostrated himself before her, wringing his gloved hands as he said, “Save me. Make me a maid. Take me away, I don’t want to do this anymore- I’ll wear a maid’s uniform even, a corset too!” 

Mrs. Hughes just tutted, unimpressed at his theatrics. Carson gave a haughty sniff as if slightly disappointed that Thomas wasn’t ready to lay down his whole life for the sake of decanting wine. 

“I’m sure you’d be very fetching, but I’m afraid you’re too valuable to Mr. Carson.” Mrs. Hughes informed him, and by way of silent explanation she passed him over the telegram which she bore. Wondering who it was from, Thomas scowled and took it up at once as Mrs. Hughes’ asked over his shoulder, “Are we decanting wine, Mr. Carson?” 

The paper was stiff and firm beneath Thomas’ fingers- freshly delivered it seemed. 

_Post Office Telegram_  
_From M. Baxter 3:31 p.m. Stockport_

_Mr. Thomas Barrow_  
_Downton Abbey, Grantham, Yorkshire_

_Thomas- Danny attacked by grandfather STOP Need your help STOP Bringing Danny to Downton on 4 o’clock train STOP Nowhere in Stockport is safe. STOP M_

“I have decided to bless Mr. Barrow with the privilege and esteemed honor of learning to decant by my hand-“ Carson was carrying on, growing more pompous by the minute. 

“Oh this is a special treat-“ Mrs. Hughes seemed eager to get Thomas’ agreement; a pity that she found him gaping at the parchment instead. “Thomas?” 

The exhaustive wait for Margret’s next contact seemed to have come at an un-payable price: Danny’s continued abuse. The day that Thomas had seen Danny’s cherub face peppered with yellow and green bruises, he’d been more than willing to lay down his life if only to spare his nephew any more pain. Back then it had been easy, simply allow himself the awful resolution of marrying Daisy while still being in love with Jimmy in order to gain access back into the Barrow household and save Danny from his alcoholic grandfather. Despite now living in a happier world where he was at last in a relationship with the man he loved instead of a woman he simply endured, Thomas was under no illusions that there would be easy fixes for Danny. 

Even if there was an easy fix, Thomas highly doubted Margret would be keen for Danny to get a finger chopped off. 

So it seemed that the abuse had continued, had gotten worse even, and now Margret was having to flee Stockport in order to keep Danny safe. This sparked more questions than it answered, such as where was Tommy, and did David agree with all of this? How bad was the abuse, and was Danny seriously injured? Should Thomas go on ahead and ring for Dr. Clarkson and alert him that a previously injured child would be arriving on the seven o’clock train? 

Seven o’clock… that would fall right into dinner. Thomas looked up to Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, both of whom were waiting expectantly with pensive expressions at his stony silence. 

“My nephew has been attacked by my father.” The words gushed slightly faster than desired past his lips, “My sister’s bringing him here on the seven o’clock train-“ 

“Seven o’clock- mid dinner?” Carson blustered, wine temporarily forgotten at the audacity of Thomas’ pushy family, “What is this, a hostel-?” 

Mrs. Hughes, however, had more selective hearing, “Attacked by your father? What do you mean-?” 

But Thomas was not in the mood to sit here and explain, to go back and forth about what had to be done and who had to do it. The hour was now close to five, and dinner was close to being served. At this moment, Jimmy would be upstairs dressing Branson, and Thomas desperately wanted to speak to him. To hear what he had to say when he understood the situation so implicitly. 

“Excuse me.” Thomas said, tucking the telegram into his inner vest pocket before fleeing the room entirely. Not for the first time in his life, he felt like there was far too much distance in between himself and Jimmy as he ascended the stairs of the servant’s hall to the second landing where he entered into the main entrance hall. It was quiet during this time of day- Carson having priorly rung the dressing gong only to decant the wine for dinner and all the children tucked into the nursery. Thomas took the steps of the landing two at a time, the red carpet rich underfoot. As he came to the gallery he took a left, heading down the long hallway towards Branson’s room with consequent dressing quarters where he was certain Jimmy would be. 

The entire time, his head spun. 

Not for the first time, Thomas berated himself for ever being so fool hardy to attempt to pull the wool over his father’s eyes. His father was incredibly intelligent despite also being an asshole and a drunk. Thomas had allowed the stench of alcohol clouding his father’s visage to give him comfort, to think that maybe if he was sneaky enough his father wouldn’t catch on that he didn’t love Daisy and that Jimmy was a god’s honest doctor. 

Jimmy might have been a right proper nurse to Thomas as he adjusted to having only nine fingers (or was it seven?) but Thomas doubted he’d find true enjoyment in being an actual doctor. Jimmy’s pleasures at being a nurse had been centered around Thomas smiling at his antics and kissing the pain off his face every time his finger burned or twinged. 

Thomas winced as the nub of his missing pinky burned in sudden revenge. He rubbed at it with his good hand, massaging the hot flesh in the prayer it would sooth the damaged nerve. 

_“I look like a fop!”_ Thomas heard Branson complaining nearly four doors down from his dressing room. Clearly someone was stamping on their ‘Irish Socialist’ soap box. 

_“Would you stop whining- you look smart.”_

Thomas’ heart skipped the softest of beats- and for it he felt like a fool. He heard Jimmy’s voice everyday now, saw his face all the time, but there were moments such as now when Thomas simply could not contain himself. Hearing Jimmy speak when he so desperately sought Jimmy’s opinion made Thomas want to burst out screaming, to make a mad dash for the appropriate door if only to knock it open and shriek _“Jimmy I have to talk to you.”_

He kept his pace brisk, but refrained from smashing the door to Branson’s dressing room down as Jimmy’s voice echoed down the hall, _“Oh god forbid you wear a white tie, I can’t think of a deeper shame.”_ followed by the sound of what could have been Branson chucking a shoe in a fit of Irish rage. Thomas knocked briskly upon the door, opening it without need for approval to the most pleasant sight of Jimmy bending over to pick up a coat brush that seemed to have fallen from a side table. Branson was scowling in a dinner jacket, looking bitter at having been roped into dressing like a toff; Thomas’ brain momentarily skittered off the tracks as he saw Jimmy’s posterior tighten against the clinging cloth of his gray suit. A soft of soft humming filled Thomas’ ears as he took the tiniest moment to revel in the way Jimmy paused in straightening up, as if his spine were hurting him and he needed to have his back popped. 

Jimmy looked around, shoe brush in hand, and upon seeing Thomas his aubergine eyes twinkled in hidden merriment. 

“Mr. Barrow?” Jimmy always attempted to keep that odd edge of formality between them when they were working around others- private moments were when Mr. Barrow melded into Thomas and Mr. Kent to Jimmy. Where Thomas could truly appreciate the beautiful purple mold of Jimmy’s eyes without worrying that Branson would catch him looking or make a quip. 

It Thomas the slightest moment to catch his breath, his heart somehow pounding though he’d only walked up a few sets of stairs and made a bee line down a hall. Fishing around in his vest, Thomas pulled out the telegram and passed it to Jimmy, who set the coat brush aside to take it up at once. He folded it flat in the bronze light of the many polished lamps; behind Jimmy’s back Branson fidgeted with his tie, trying to loosen it while Jimmy couldn’t see. 

“You look ready to faint.” Branson grumbled, still jerking a thumb under his collar. 

“My little nephew has been attacked by my father-“ Thomas admitted, and Branson momentarily stopped yanking at his neck to grimace at the disturbing emotion of child abuse, “He’s on his way up here right now. My sister doesn’t know where else to bring him. She says no where in our hometown is safe.” 

Jimmy had finished with the telegram. He now looked upon Thomas with grave understanding, his fingers tightening around the edges of the thick paper as Branson started tugging at his starched white tie again. Jimmy refolded the telegram, putting it in his own pocket as he brought a hand up to his perfectly carved mouth. He drummed his fingers there, eyes narrowing in thought, but Thomas couldn’t see any solution forward and doubted if Jimmy could either. The bitter fact of the matter was that Downton was a working house- practically a living machine- and there was no room for a child here. Master George, Miss Sybil, and Miss Marigold were different- they could sit and play in their nursery all day if they liked and had nannies to spoil them. Should Danny be sent to Downton he would be stuck below quarters, forced to hide as maids cleaned and valets tended to their lords. Mrs. Patmore might be able to find a spot for him in the kitchen, but even then during the heat of the day he would have to go somewhere else. God forbid he cause an accident mid-meal. 

Suddenly (and not for the first time) Thomas found himself wishing desperately that his living situation was not tied to servitude. That he could care for Danny and Tommy as he ought to, as was natural, instead of begging to Mr. Carson for mere scraps of time with his nephews. 

“What kind of a bastard attacks a child?” Branson sighed. Jimmy raked a hand through his coifed hair, glancing his shoulder only to scowl and bat out at Branson’s fidgeting hand before he pulled his white tie loose. 

“Stop that!” Jimmy reprimanded him so that Branson had to drop his hand at once. The damage was done, however, and Jimmy yanked the tie completely loose to start refastening it again. “He’s a drinker an’ no mistake.” Jimmy grumbled. 

“Drinkin’s no excuse!” Branson grimaced as Jimmy pulled his white tie tight. 

“I don’t know what to do.” Thomas admitted, rubbing tenderly at his pulsing nub again, “Danny can’t possibly stay here, could he?” 

“I’ll talk with Robert.” Branson offered, arms stiff at his side by Jimmy’s beckoning, “Maybe the boy can hold over here a night or two till things calm down.” 

“He’s already made enough allowances on our behalf.” Thomas was slightly bitter about the whole thing, “He won’t care to make more.” 

“But this isn’t your behalf, is it. It’s a child’s.” Branson corrected him; Jimmy took up the coat brush to smooth out his shoulders and down the planes of his back, “Robert may be a stickler for tradition but he’s a soft spot for children… how could he not with Sybbie and Marigold at his ankles all day? George is practically in his shadow.” 

Jimmy set his coat brush down, straightening the jacket on Branson’s shoulders one last time before giving a nod of firm approval. 

“There. Done.” Jimmy sounded quite ready to duck out a window if it meant he could get away from Branson and his white tie sooner, “An’ don’t go fidgeting or they’ll think I’ve done you wrong.” 

“But it’s tight-!” 

“You can handle.” Jimmy snapped, and he took a jacket that needed mending from the clotheshorse to put it over his arm. “Now will that be all?” 

Branson looked like a spoilt child, scowling into the carpet. “I suppose.” 

Jimmy gave only the tiniest nod of his head, turning on his heel to march for the door with Thomas right behind him. The pair of them left Branson to his dressing room, though Thomas was certain he saw Branson reach up and yank at his tie as soon as Jimmy was over the threshold. On his own head be it, Thomas had bigger concerns than Branson’s dislike of the aristocracy. 

Down the stairs they went, Jimmy in the lead and Thomas right behind. 

They found the servant’s hall slightly crowded, as valets and lady’s maids returned from dressing and footman kept time in the kitchen. Carson was upstairs, going over the dining hall laid out by Thomas’ keen eye- they had about twenty minutes to themselves if they were smart and kept their voices down. At this point in their careers, both Thomas and Jimmy were professional at pushing off work. 

They found their usual chairs by the fire taken up by a pregnant Anna and John, who sat next to her helping her wrap up an enormous coil of darned lace. Her stomach was swollen but not enormously so- Thomas had been shocked to discover that Anna had been pregnant for five months before anyone realized it. No one was more pleased than John, as smug as a cat that got the cream and canary while Anna knitted baby blankets, booties, and caps. Their baby would be a winter one, with the date set in January, and Anna seemed determined that her first born should pop out with a fully equipped wardrobe. For the moment, however, she merely worked on a dress collar for Lady Mary who seemed to have taken to the races (for whatever reason). 

Unable to grouch by the fire Thomas instead decided to pace back and forth. Jimmy poured them two cups of tea from a communal pot, adding honey and lemon for Thomas as Thomas rubbed agitatedly at the nub of his hand and seethed. Down at the far end of the table, Phyllis sat by herself, her sewing machine and taking up an entire corner of the table as she worked on mending one of Mrs. Patmore’s torn aprons. Apparently it had caught on a nail. Phyllis huffed and puffed, nervous hands nearly catching on her sewing machine as her fingers jittered. 

No one was more miserable than she to learn that Danny was in danger. She sat slumped in a right gloom, worrying at her bottom lip. 

“You’d think he could find something better to do, but no!” Thomas spat out, jerking his step around, “I suppose idle hands are the devil’s playthings where he’s concerned.” 

“Are his hands idle if he’s attacking children?” John mused, his hands full of Anna’s lace. 

“I want to crush his skull!” Thomas admitted, feeling quite murderous in that moment as he pent up rage began to let loose, “I know why he’s done this. I know why.” He pointed a knowing finger to Jimmy who merely poured himself a personal cup of tea with milk and sugar, “He thinks Danny is weak, and he’s punishing him for it. He’s six- six!” Thomas huffed, “Six, and he’s treating Danny like he’s a… a… a…” but he couldn’t find the word. 

Jimmy passed him his teacup and Thomas sunk into a chair at the servant’s table, fuming. 

“Like a soppy little toff.” Jimmy offered, sipping on his own tea. 

“Exactly.” Leave it to Jimmy to know Thomas best, “And he’s not! Children are needy- they long to be loved- this isn’t something that only Daniel does.” Now that he was ranting it seemed he could not stop, “And he has a penchant for coloring, so what?! Has every male artist in history been a little off-?” 

But Jimmy cut him off with a wave of a hand, and Thomas fell temporarily silent as Jimmy took a hasty slurp of tea, “Look, you’re thinkin’ too much into it, yeah?” 

“Yeah?” Thomas fiddled with the rim of his teacup. He was unable to take it up with his bad hand, and instead used that to grasp the saucer beneath. 

“He’s a drunk, plain an’ simple.” Jimmy finished his tea and set the empty cup down with a firm ‘clink’, “You can’t reason with a drunk. You can’t make sense of a drunk. He’s not punishin’ Daniel, or tryin’ to make a statement. He’s drinkin’ and beatin’ children. An’ that’s flat.” Jimmy sat his saucer down too, licking his lips a little to catch an errant bead of milk. 

Thomas’ eye twitched. 

“…Maybe he’ll drink himself to death.” Thomas mused, his mind still captivated by that tiny bead of milk so easily swiped away. 

“Maybe.” Jimmy agreed, and at that he flashed Thomas an impish smile, “The day he cocks it we’re having a party.” 

“Has he done this before?” Two became four as Anna paused in her coiling of lace. “Fallen off the wagon?” 

“Several times in my youth.” Thomas admitted. 

“I remember being a girl and my mother telling me I couldn’t go over to your house to play.” Phyllis admitted. Thomas glanced at her, finding her pale and waning with her lips pursed into a thin line. “Sometimes it felt like clockwork- funny expression with your family.” 

Thomas shrugged. 

“Maybe he needs to be taught a lesson.” John mused from his chair, shifting the lace from one hand to the other in reflective quiet. Anna glanced up from her lace, her expression becoming wary as she shifted a hand across her swollen belly. The longer John’s silence reigned, the more paranoid she became. 

“No.” Anna snapped, “Absolutely not. You’re staying here and that’s flat.” 

“Alas.” John joked, “Revenge is seized before it’s ever even ours.” but there was something rather ominous in his voice that Thomas would be a fool to miss. 

_“Run, da”_ Thomas heard himself bleat in his head. He coughed, covering up his nerves. 

“So it goes,” Thomas mused, unable to say much more without feeling a twisting sensation in his stomach. 

_Coward._ Thomas cursed himself, wondering why it was that at times he felt such anger, such desire to hurt his father… only to panic and recoil backward every time he heard another mention the same. 

“You ought to think what kind of an impression it’ll make on your son.” Anna warned, continuing to stroke her belly. Funny that she should imagine it to be a boy, but perhaps mothers had a way of knowing- maybe they sensed it innately when even science could not tell. 

“Someone beats a child, you beat them back.” John offered, “For every mark put on an innocents body, put two on theirs-“ so by this logic Thomas’ father should have two of his fingers chopped off, “A damn fine impression if you ask me.” 

Thomas shrugged out a cigarette from his pack, perching it between his lips to strike up his lighter only to have Anna cut him off with a snap. “Don’t smoke around me, Thomas! How many times do I have to tell you?” 

Thomas grumbled, putting his cigarette back into the pack; Jimmy smiled, rising up from the table to push in his chair. 

“Come on.” He offered, with a nod of the head towards the back hallway and door, “We’ve got about ten minutes before you’re needed.” 

It was as good of an excuse as any, and it got him away from Anna who seemed to be growing more hormonal by the minute. The pair of them made a beeline for the back door, stepping out into the entry area to find the courtyard quite abandoned. The air was growing crisp as October took its hold. Snow was yet to fall but it wouldn’t be long now. Come November, there would be an inch upon the ground at least and the servants would have to relight fires with twice the speed. For now the only difference was that Jimmy and Thomas both felt a brisk sting upon the bare skin of their hands and faces. The ironed starch of the liveries and suits, so usually itchy and irritating on the skin, now gave them comfortable warmth which they clung to. Thomas struck up a cigarette, taking three puffs before passing it to Jimmy who accepted it and took a light drag. 

“Cor,” Jimmy sighed through a mouth full of smoke, as Thomas rubbed at the sore nub of his amputated pinky, “Anna’s gettin’ grouchy.” 

“Well she is pregnant.” Thomas accepted the cigarette back, savoring the flavor of Jimmy’s lips upon the nub. The faintest trace of peppermint touched his mouth. 

“S’no excuse.” Jimmy offered him a cocky grin as he said, “If I was pregnant I wouldn’t be grouchy.” 

This filled Thomas’ head with nonsensical images of Jimmy pittering about in an untucked shirt with a swollen belly. He’d have a glow about him, a sweet warm thing that would charm Thomas’ heart to the point of melting like Mrs. Patmore’s ice cakes; Thomas would press his ear to Jimmy’s belly just to hear the ‘thump thump thump’ that came from within. 

“Jimmy, if you were pregnant we’d have more problems than whether or not you were bein’ grouchy.” Thomas could not help but laugh. 

“Such as how that baby got in there-“ 

“Or how it’s gonna get out.” 

Jimmy was grinning cheekily now, and as Thomas propped against the stone wall of the abbey Jimmy sidled up to lean with him- the pair of them suddenly drawing more heat from each other than their clothes as Jimmy tucked his head head beneath Thomas’ chin and allowed Thomas’ nose to become flooded with the scent of peppermint. 

“We’ll figure it out, Thomas…. Danny will be okay.” Jimmy murmured. Thomas finished his cigarette and cast it aside to let it putter out on the brick. Both hands free, Thomas reached out to wrap around Jimmy’s sloping shoulders if only to pull him fully to his chest. The weight that Jimmy offered was as soothing and intoxicating as a familiar blanket, and Thomas drew great strength from it as Jimmy hummed into the stiff front of his livery. 

“You are a treasure.” Thomas gloated. Jimmy just smiled into his vest. 

As Jimmy looked up, his aubergine eyes appeared even more so in the oncoming dark. The afternoon hour was heralding the onset of autumn- where before in summer the moment of 5:30 wouldn’t have meant dark, now it was nearly pitch black outside with only the faintest vestiges of light creeping through the curtained horizon. It would rain soon. 

Captivated, enthralled, Thomas bent his head forward to taste from the well that so quenched his on-going thirst. Jimmy stood on tip toe to make up for their odd height difference, his sweet honey lips molding against Thomas’ own as they opened and allowed for Thomas’ tongue to slip inside. 

These were the moments of the day he so longed for, the true minutes were the faint scraps of an honest life were within his grasp and easy to seize. Again and again he plundered Jimmy’s mouth, reveling in the tiniest hiccuping gasps that hissed against his skin as Jimmy clung to the front of his livery only to slip his arms around Thomas’ neck. Thomas’ hands wandered ever downward, grabbing first at Jimmy’s waist, then the plump swell of his arse. As he kneaded the flesh beneath his fingers, he thought, not for the first time- _Ah, how sweet it is to love you_. 

They had to part or Jimmy would surely faint. Thomas’ was growing dizzy himself. Backing off, Thomas peppered Jimmy’s forehead with kisses as Jimmy shivered in his arms. Whether it was the wind or Thomas’ kiss, one could not say. 

Jimmy hummed against Thomas’ neck, nipping at the skin he found there- Thomas’ stubble was just barely starting to show- by ten he’d have the slightest shadow and a scowl from Carson to match. 

“You look pensive.” Thomas murmured, noting how Jimmy’s brow was crinkled. 

“…M’thinkin.” Jimmy admitted after a moment, eyes closed. 

“About?” 

“…Bout what we do.” Jimmy whispered, “When we’re alone.” 

Ah. 

Anyone who’d seen the way Jimmy had cavorted about with Ivy Stuart would be under the impression that Jimmy was a little harlot in bed thinking up the most scandalous ideas and enacting them out in the most scandalous of places. Fucking in Mrs. Hughes’ sitting room? Certainly, why not! Tub sex in his Lordship’s dressing room? Absolutely- don’t forget the towels. Wild three-ways in Mrs. Patmore’s kitchen? Well, if you insist, but do mind the bread slicer. 

The truth of the matter was that Jimmy was…well… _shy_. Painfully shy. 

They’d yet to have sex, which didn’t bother Thomas in the slightest save that it only heightened his anticipation for the savored moment even more. When they grew hot and frantic, pressed tight together in one of their bedrooms, Jimmy would happily bring him off with his hand or mouth (god save the queen- that _mouth_ ) but in the few moments where Thomas had thought that it might lead to something slightly more Jimmy had always backed out in the end. He’d been petrified at first, then terribly embarrassed, flushed and upset at himself as he cursed his supposed cowardice and begged Thomas’ forgiveness. All of it was ridiculous to Thomas; Jimmy had nothing to apologize for. He wasn’t a coward for going at his own pace, for making sure that he felt certain of his own steps. It was a fool that ran out onto a frozen lake without checking the depth of the ice on which they stood. Thomas knew how it felt, to be out of his depth and afraid of what came next. He could remember being fourteen and pressed against the outer wall of _Le Petit Lapin_ as Mr. Gardener had kissed him breathless and reached for his arse. Even at that age, Thomas hadn’t been a fool. He’d known Mr. Gardener would have loved nothing more than to take him into the back room again and fuck him against the crates of beer and ale… preferably with the others watching so as to boast about it later. Now that he was an adult, a hair away from turning thirty, he had to admit it was frankly disgusting that a forty year old man had wanted to screw him into a dirty floor. As a teenager it had seemed so deliciously daring and exciting. As an adult it just seemed disturbing. What had Mr. Gardener been thinking? He’d no doubt been in his forties… by Thomas’ math his own father had only been thirty four at the time. 

Thomas imagined Danny on the floor of some shack with a forty year old man trying to screw him into the dirt. 

Oh yes. Murder was a very real possibility. Castration was guaranteed. 

The situation with Jimmy had nothing to do with Mr. Gardener save that Thomas understood what it felt like to be frightened but longing for the next move at the same time. He knew the difference because when Philip had taken his virginity Thomas had felt no fear at all. He’d not been afraid of Philip. He’d wanted Philip to fuck him into the mattress. 

He’d gotten his wish by the end of the night, and paid for it the next day every time he’d sat down. 

He didn’t want that for Jimmy- to be in pain all day long and wincing every time he had to sit. They’d move at Jimmy’s pace, by Jimmy’s command; when they finally got to that moment, it would be every bit as sweet and tender as Jimmy wanted it to be. When fear melted into longing, Thomas would be waiting, and Jimmy would finally learn that he had nothing to apologize for. 

“… I wanna do more, but-“ Jimmy broke off, and Thomas could hear the tiniest essences of shame beginning to creep into his voice. 

He cut him off, “We’re in no rush, Jimmy.” 

“Still.” Jimmy whispered. He sighed, turning his face into Thomas’ neck to hide there for a moment. Thomas kissed the top of his head, his mouth full of peppermint and sunny blonde curls. 

“When that time comes, we’ll make that step.” Thomas assured him, murmuring into Jimmy’s hair so that his words were slightly muffled. “Don’t feel you have to please me, Jimmy. Loving you is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known.” And it was the god’s honest truth. 

“Soon.” Jimmy sounded quite placated now. 

“As you wish.” Thomas agreed. It was neither commanding nor waning. If it was soon, it was soon. If it wasn’t, it wasn’t. No harm, no foul. 

And so the hour marched steadily on towards seven. 

The family dined alone that night, with no one for company save Mrs. Crawley and the Dowager Countess who were, as usual, bickering mildly over some waffle or another. Thomas paid attention to none of it, his eyes locked on the globe clock upon the ornate mantel. With every push of the ancient gold spinner hand past seven, Thomas felt his heart beat faster. His nerves were momentarily put on pause when he silently commanded Moseley and Andy to collect the first serving with a spin of his pointer finger- a flurry of plates later, Thomas dared to cast his eyes back to the globe clock. 

It was 7:30

He glanced at Carson, only the tiniest beat of movement that Carson caught merely because he was waiting and watching. 

Carson nodded to Thomas, a small simple thing that wouldn’t have been caught by the family save for perhaps the Dowager Countess who always had an eye for detail. 

He nodded back, and began to inch along the side wall where a bar was covered in pristine shafts of lavender, white roses, and baby’s breath. As he reached the door, he opened it with expertise so that not a single sound issued. One slip later he was in the dark of the outer hallway and at his own pace to run. 

And so he did. 

He bottled for the stairwell, tails flapping in his wind as he took the stairs down as fast as he dared. He’d be of use to no one with a broken neck, but damnit if he didn’t feel like there was a million miles between himself and his sister. Mrs. Hughes had promised to let her in and offer her any need she might require (including Dr. Clarkson if it was truly serious) but Thomas was still in a panic. He wanted to see it with his own eyes, to assess the damage for himself. 

As he hit the bottom he made a bee line for Mrs. Hughes sitting room. Someone might call the fire department for how he was running. One trip and he would be hospitalized with a broken femur, he was sure, but he made it to Mrs. Hughes office all the same and promptly burst through the door slightly disheveled to gasp for breath in the threshold clutching at a stitch in his chest. Mrs. Hughes whipped around, halfway bent over with a tea tray in hand bearing four cups and a steaming pot. There at her sitting table was Jimmy looking fretful chewing upon his bottom lip and- 

“Margret.” 

She leapt from her chair, her bun undone and her black hair falling over her shoulder in a loose braid. It was only then that Thomas saw Danny was not sitting in her lap but standing by her feet- perhaps he’d been looking at Mrs. Hughes tea tray before Thomas had barged into the room. Either way, Thomas’ arms were suddenly full of his twin sister as she wrapped him in a vice like grip. For a moment they simply hugged one another, and the nub of Thomas’ amputated finger twinged painfully in a moment of emotional distress as Thomas allowed himself to smell the lavender soap at her neck. Not for the first time, he found himself amazed at how truly beautiful his twin sister was. At how very much he loved her. Uncaring for the forwardness, Thomas grasped Margret’s high cheekbones to press the softest of kisses into her widow’s peak. When he drew back, he found her lovely blue eyes full of tears. 

“I didn’t know what else to do-“ Margret blurted out, shaking her head so that her braid shifted upon her neck, “I didn’t know where else to go- I couldn’t keep him at home, no where in Stockport is safe-“ 

“No, I agree-“ Thomas assured her at once as he helped her back into her seat, “You did right to come here- does he know you’re here?” 

“I’m certain.” Margret bitterly clutched Danny to her side, allowing him to hide his face in her navy blue dress. Mrs. Hughes set her tea tray down on the table between them; Jimmy began to pour them cups his eyes nervous as they darted up to Thomas’ face. 

“He might try and see them off.” Jimmy warned. 

“See me off?!” Margret sounded furious, though her anger was hardly directed at Jimmy, “He’s so lost he couldn’t see his reflection in a looking glass-“ 

“But what brought this on?” Thomas demanded. He took to a knee, unwilling to wait any longer, and pried Danny gently from his mother’s side. Finally able to turn Danny around, Thomas’s heart sank right into his stomach at the sight of a horrible purple bruise upon his left eye. There was a cut about the edge, deep and hideously raw- Thomas hissed through clenched teeth as Mrs. Hughes offered him a tea towel steeped in hot water from the teapot. Tender, Thomas pressed just the barest edge to Danny’s cherub face, but even that was too painful and the little boy squirmed in Thomas’ loose grip with a whine. “God what did he do to you?” 

“Cracked him around the face with a clock!” Margret seethed, completely ignoring the cup of tea both Jimmy and Mrs. Hughes offered her so as to pull Danny’s honey brown hair back from his face. Thomas could now see the bruise drifting into his hairline- acid churned in his stomach making him feel queasy. “He ran from the house- I had to search for an hour to find him in the woods-!” 

“Oh lamb…” Mrs. Hughes tutted, taking in the cuts and tears upon Danny’s miniature trousers and shirt sleeves. He must have garnered them in his flight. 

“Danny-“ Thomas shifted the tea towel to allow the damp cloth to cool and tried to tend to Danny’s cut again. His medic training was warning him of concussions- of bleeding behind the eye and swelling in the brain, “Do you feel dizzy?” 

But instead of answer Thomas’ question, Danny simply said, “It’s all my fault-“ in a tight voice and burst right into a fit of howling tears. “It’s all- my-“ 

Thomas gave up on the tea towel, now tinged faintly in red, and took Danny fully into his arms so that Danny could cry upon his shoulder. Danny was going to give himself an aneurism if he kept it up, his voice was high pitched as he blurted out one keening cry after another. Thomas shushed him into his livery, rocking him back and forth knowing full well that everyone would be able to hear him from the servant’s hall. The last thing he wanted was Anna’s pregnancy hormones kicking in again. She’d be crying just as hard as Danny. 

“See here, young man.” Mrs. Hughes urged in her most affectionate of voices, “There is no reason for a grown man to attack a child. There’s nothing you could have said or done to justify him treating you in such a way.” 

And Thomas completely agreed. 

“I said you were smarter than him and he hit me-!” Danny wailed into Thomas’ neck. A horrible pang of affection burst through Thomas, making him feel oddly close to tears himself. 

“Ah, well, see there’s your trouble.” Jimmy offered kindly, “He can’t stand the truth.” 

Danny just sniveled into Thomas’ shoulder, his livery now thoroughly soaked at the neck. Margret rubbed his back, her touch soothing him. 

“Mrs. Hughes, do you have a medicine kit?” Margret asked, “I’m afraid a great deal of this was done on the fly.” She gestured to Danny’s face, still hidden in Thomas’ neck. 

“Of course.” Mrs. Hughes assured her, “I’ll go fetch it now- and some ice too.” She added as a hasty after thought, leaving them to her sitting room. In the silence Danny’s tears began to start up again. He whimpered and mewled into Thomas’ neck, causing an ugly beast within Thomas to rear up in distress. Suddenly the urge to murder was strong again- the urge to rip and claw at every bit of flesh he saw… perhaps this was how John Bates felt from time to time. 

“I’m sorry…” Danny whimpered, “I’m sorry.” 

“What on earth do you have to be sorry for?” Thomas demanded, and he could not keep the self-righteous anger out of his voice, “Tell me? What have you done?” 

“I was smart to him-“ Danny whimpered, words muffled by Thomas’ livery. 

“Oh heaven forbid one exude sass.” Jimmy grumbled from his chair, rolling his lovely eyes. Margret continued to rub Danny’s back. 

Mrs. Hughes was back with hasty speed, a medicine kit in one hand and one of Mrs. Patmore’s smallest mixing bowls in the other. It was full of ice and water, sloshing about as she set both on the cramped sitting room table. Margret opened the medicine kit, fetching salve and a small bandage which she prepared as Thomas took his ignored tea towel to dip it in the icy water. The pair of them had to work together, forcing Danny to stand upright so that his blotchy, bruised, tear-stained face was now quite visible to the room. Thomas dabbed tenderly at the painful cut above Danny’s eye. Danny winced with each dab, his one bruised eyelid fluttering at the pressure so that it momentarily looked like he was a seizure victim.

“He was-“ Danny hiccuped as he spoke, “He was sayin- you were evil an’ I said no- an’ then he started yelling-“ 

Margret offered the salve and bandage to Thomas, and she took both her hands to pull Danny’s curly brown hair back from his face so that Thomas could work better. 

“Hold still.” Thomas warned as he dabbed at the cut with the dry edge of the tea towel. Danny sniveled pathetically as Thomas took a dab of medicinal paste to sooth the angry cut. He knew it must hurt, but there was no way around it- the cut would have to be cleaned or risk infection. 

“An I told him- to shuttup. Cause he was so loud, an I hate it when he’s loud. I hate loud things! And then he just got louder!” At this Danny began to cry again with renewed vigor. Thomas wiped his hands upon the tea towel hastily to apply the bandage to Danny’s cut. With each bit of tape, he sealed it till dark red was obscured by a thin strip of white. There was nothing to be done with bruise- it would simply have to heal. 

“Did he hit you anywhere else?” Thomas asked, just to be sure. Danny shook his head, sniveling, but there was something odd in the way he wouldn’t meet Thomas’ eyes. 

“Danny… are you lying?” Thomas warned. Danny trembled, eyes averted. He’d gone unnervingly still. “Daniel-“ Thomas took Danny’s chin in hand to lift him up a little. Danny’s sweet blue eyes were so full of fear- it shocked Thomas to realize that Danny was afraid of him. 

That perhaps Danny feared Thomas might hit him too if he lied. 

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas urged as gently as he could.  
Daniel burst into tears again, the shame overcoming him as he pointed with a trembling finger to his lower back. 

At once, Margret and Thomas both took to his suspender straps and shirt tails. Thomas shrugged off his straps as Margret pulled up his shirt from his trousers- the pair of them stilled as they saw an ugly purple bruise come into view close to Danny’s spine. 

It was in the shape of a footprint. 

“Oh baby…” Margret whispered in horror, pressing her hand over the bruise as if hoping to heal it her with her loving touch. 

“How did this happen?” Thomas asked, his voice darkening as anger rose up within him again. 

“He kicked me-!” Danny howled in shame, “He- he kicked me!” 

Thomas slowly looked up, meeting his sister’s eyes from the floor. Their father was never supposed to be someone else’s problem- least of all their children’s. The sins of their shared childhood, which had darkened their doorstep from infancy, had been from the start their burden to bear. Thomas would never have children, and for that reason clung to Margret’s boys like they were his own. To imagine his own sons- his own nephews- enduring the pain of his childhood made him horrifically sick to his stomach. 

Margret lifted Danny up from the floor, cradling him in her lap as she wrapped her arms tight around him in a protective embrace. 

Thomas folded the dirtied tea towel, rising back up to set it on the edge of Mrs. Hughes’ tea table. 

Across the way, Jimmy was back to chewing on his lip. Mrs. Hughes had her head bowed, her own lips pursed fretfully. 

With nothing else to do, Thomas reached out and placed a hand upon his sister’s shoulder. The entire time a mantra ran through Thomas’ head: _What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?_

 

 

He sought the refuge of a much needed cigarette half an hour later. Danny seemed to be momentarily soothed, or perhaps he’d simply tuckered himself out from crying too hard. Either way, he was now firmly on Jimmy’s lap watching as Jimmy showed him tricks with a pack of cards. It offered both Thomas and Margret temporary reprieve so that Thomas could slip out the back for a smoke and Margret could speak to Mrs. Hughes in private. 

Grateful for the quiet, Thomas nursed the slightest of headaches massaging at his brow as he allowed the smoke to fill his lungs. The nicotine soothed him to the point of near sleep- so much so that he almost didn’t hear the crunch of gravel underfoot as someone walked up from behind him. Wary, Thomas looked over his shoulder, but immediately relaxed as he saw Margret re-fixing her bun back into its normal hold. Around and around she wrapped her braid, sticking it all together with a long wooden pin as she came and sat down at Thomas’ side. Margret had the odd way of acting a true lady without being pompous, her posture perfect and yet lacking a stiff edge as she sighed and melded her arm onto Thomas’ thigh. Sitting upon the table top itself with his feet on the bench, Thomas was hardly a gentlemen. Instead he offered his arm to his sister, rubbing at her shoulders which were understandably stiff with stress. 

“A cigarette if you please, Mr. Barrow.” Margret murmured, offering up one hand. 

Thomas pulled one free from his pack, lighting it with the end of his own cigarette so that he passed it to her with a newly formed cherry. She took the smallest of drags, coughing a little at the edge as she exhaled. 

“I thought ladies didn’t smoke.” Thomas teased.

“Tonight I’m far from a lady.” Margret admitted, and her voice was tinged with darkness. 

For a moment the pair of them smoked in silence, though Margret (like Jimmy) didn’t so much as smoke as she did sit with a burning cigarette in hand. She was deep in thought, lost in her own misery, but Thomas didn’t let her dawdle there long. He was one for solutions, and was determined to find one. 

“What do you want me to do, Margret?” He asked as he finally finished his cigarette and cast it with a hiss to the ground. “Tell me and I’ll do it. Do you want me to go to Stockport and take his head off?” 

“No.” Margret grumbled. 

“What then?” 

“I want Daniel to stay here until it’s safe.” 

Thomas had been worried that was plan from the start, because as much as he would have willingly said yes in a heartbeat there were about five other people who needed to say yes first… and he doubted any of them would. It made him feel ugly and powerless, small like a roach under the heel of a boot. Once more, the cruelty of a life in servitude came to bite him in the ass. 

“…Have you spoken with Mrs. Hughes?” Thomas asked, unsure how to best phrase his rejection. 

“Yes.” Margret sniffed, flicking a long line of ash from her barely smoked cigarette. “She agreed for a temporary stay but said it couldn’t be permanent.” Margret looked up at him, her blue eyes so full of misery and cigarette smoke Thomas couldn’t stand it, “David doesn’t want Daniel is Stockport until he’s certain it’s safe. Our father’s decided to go entirely off the drink, but it’s made him wild and unpredictable. I’ve never seen him so determined to stay sober… but it’s killing him, Thomas. Sometimes he’s like a wild animal when he gets going. Tommy is staying with David’s parents- but Danny doesn’t want to stay with them-“ Margret paused, tilting her head. “It’s odd… for some reason, Daniel’s father is more fond of Tommy than he is of Danny- I think he scares Danny- but he won’t let our father hurt Tommy, so Tommy is at least safe for the moment.” 

Thomas’ brow became more and more furrowed with every word.  
He could remember very little of Mr. Baxter, save that he’d always been… frightening. Like a wounded dog ready to jump at your throat should you slacken just the tiniest bit. 

No. He wouldn’t dare put Danny in that house unless he knew it was safe beyond all question, and he doubted that day would come anytime soon. 

If their father wanted to get sober, that was his own prerogative. Killing himself in the process would be an ugly, slow, death… but if that was the way he wanted to go Thomas wouldn’t put up any resistance. 

The nub of his amputated pinky twinged. Thomas refused to rub it lest Margret notice and ask any awkward questions. Even now, Thomas doubted that he could willingly admit to her that their father was the one who had cut off his finger. It felt oddly… traitorous… somehow. Thomas couldn’t say why. 

“Daniel is a walking target.” Margret whispered, disturbed by her own ugly words, “Thomas, if it keeps up, he’ll turn nasty.” 

Thomas knew this better than any other man alive. 

_I will not let Danny become me_. Thomas refused the concept on the spot. 

“I know.” Thomas agreed softly. 

“He loves you.” Margret added. 

“I know.” Thomas could not help but chuckle a little. 

“… I love you.” Margret looked back up to him, and Thomas was struck by how similar they were once again. It was like he was looking in a mirror as Margret leaned over to lay her head a little upon his thigh. He was the perfect height and shape to be her head rest. 

“… I know.” Thomas whispered, running a hand through Margret’s tangled black hair. 

For a moment the pair of them were silent, Margret resting and Thomas thinking. 

If Mrs. Hughes agreed, she could get Mr. Carson to agree. If they could keep Daniel downstairs and out of sight of the family, there wasn’t any real need to tell Lord Grantham. This, however, was incredibly dishonest and Thomas knew it would never work with Mr. Carson in on the secret. Lord Grantham would know by morning and probably not be happy with it. If he disagreed, Danny would have to go… but go where? The thought made Thomas’ stomach clench painfully. 

Branson had urged that “Robert” was a stickler for children… but what if it wasn’t enough? What if Lord Grantham disagreed? 

Thomas supposed he would have to leave with Danny. He wouldn’t send Danny back to Stockport without protection, and if that meant he had to be Danny’s personal shield then so bloody be it. Of course the real problem was Jimmy- he’d be coming too and be less of a shield than a ramming spear. Thomas wondered how long their father would be determined to remain sober should Jimmy and Thomas re appear in Stockport with Danny between them. 

“… We’ll figure this out, Margie.” Thomas mumbled, “We’ll figure this out.” 

But god help him if he knew it could be true. 

 

 

 

They had to be quick to catch the train. 

The whole way through the dark, Danny kept his head buried on Thomas’ shoulder. After a life of carrying around over-stuffed valises Danny was hardly heavy to Thomas, and as they arrived at the Downton train station he had no trouble in keeping Danny company as Margret bought only one ticket. In the late hour neither Phyllis nor Jimmy had been able to join them on their walk to the train station though both had wanted to come. Branson and Lady Grantham had to be tended to, and so the three of them had walked alone in the dark in relative silence until the gold of the station lights painted the way in a copper glow. 

They were alone at the station as they waited for the second to last out of Downton. At this rate Margret would get home by midnight and no doubt be utterly exhausted, but that was just as well. She seemed determined not to stay overnight. To make this break from Danny as swift and painless as possible lest Danny start crying again and be more pitiful than before. 

Margret returned from buying her solitary ticket, sniffing as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a sodden handkerchief. By her silent bidding, Thomas set Danny down upon the ground, allowing him to totter over to his mother as she took to her knees and fixed the collar of his shirt a little better. With his hands upon Danny’s shoulders, Thomas had the perfect view to see Margret kiss Danny’s bruised cheek with care. Her motherly tendencies were incredibly sweet. 

“Danny…” Margret paused as she stroked a brown curl out of Danny’s cherub face, “I have an idea. A plan.” 

“A plan?” Danny asked, quite curious. 

“That’s right.” Margret put on her bravest face; only Thomas could see the pain in her blue eyes, “Your papa and I think that it might be better if you stay here for a little while, in that big and beautiful house, full of all those nice people… with your Uncle Thomas and Aunt Phyllis until it’s a little quieter in Stockport.” 

“But-“ Danny whimpered, eyes growing wide in distress at the thought of being torn from his mother. 

“It’s not forever!” Margret assured him at once, cupping his cheeks in her hands to rub them tenderly with her thumbs, “I promise. I wouldn’t let it be forever. I’m going to miss you just as much as you miss me but… I need you to be safe, Daniel. I can’t guarantee that at home.” 

And the words wounded her more than Daniel could ever know. 

“Your papa and I are very worried about your safety.” Margret whispered, thumbing away a few tears that strayed from Danny’s eyes, “And your Uncle Thomas if very strong and very smart-“ 

“Papa’s strong and smart-“ Danny begged in the tiniest voice. 

“Yes, but Papa has to work in London now and he can’t protect you while he’s on the clock…. and neither can I though god I wish I could.” Margret’s voice broke just the tiniest bit at the edges. 

“Imagine you, running around that beautiful castle.” Margret tried for optimism, determined not to let her child see her fear, “I wonder at all the trouble you’re bound to get into. You’ll get to be with your Uncle Thomas, and your Aunt Phyllis- she’s your papa’s sister you know… and my best friend in the whole world.” At at this, Thomas could hear the tears being held back in Margret’s voice. Her blue eyes were glistening, “And she’s going to be so good to you- just like me… yes?” 

Danny blinked, but nodded a little. Margret brushed his cheeks again. 

“Your uncle Thomas- why-“ Margret laughed softly, “He’s the bravest of us all.” And at that she looked up at Thomas so that their eyes met. 

_Please_ , she seemed to say, _Please protect my baby_. 

And Thomas would, with his very life if need be. Margret seemed to sense that in his gaze, and grew less pained in her expression. 

“He’s going to be just like your papa, and you won’t ever have to worry if he’s around. Yes?” 

Thomas nodded, a warmth flooding his heart at his sister’s confidence. She was right to trust him. 

“Do you promise you’ll come get me soon?” Danny whispered. Margret clutched him to her breast at once- and with his face hidden in her shoulder she let the ugly pain on her face show. Her eyes clenched tight, her jaw locked to keep from trembling, she buried her face in her child’s hair and pushed all the love she possessed into him. Like she might be able to heal every bruise upon him in that moment. Every scratch and tear. 

“I do! I promise!” She urged, and though her voice was optimistic it was tight with unshed tears, “How could I not, when I love you so.” And at this she drew back to kiss him several times upon his face till he was scrunching up and squirming away as only a little boy could. 

Thomas could suddenly remember being Danny’s age and having his own mother do the same thing- how she’d kissed him silly when he’d brought her a flower from the garden- he’d whimpered and whined to get away from her- suddenly quite un eager to be smothered with love. She’d paid him no mind and continued to kiss him anyways. 

A hot whistle jetted through the air, followed by a rumbling underfoot. The train was coming, and soon it docked into the station to let out a jet of hot steam on either side that drifted up through the chilling air. Margret looked over her shoulder fretfully, glancing back up at Thomas as the doors to the train opened and the station master began to usher out the few straggled passengers. He punched their tickets with the tip of a hat, looking every so often at Margret warily lest she be left behind. 

“You be good to your aunt and your uncle.” Margret begged, kissing Danny again and again as she hugged him close, “And remember to be good and do good. Yes?” 

Danny nodded. Margret kissed him again, “Good.” 

Margret rose up, still allowing Danny to cling to her skirts as she wrung her hands before Thomas. 

“Take care of my son.” She begged. 

“I will.” Thomas assured her at once. 

“Don’t let him get into too much mischief.” Margret kept glancing over her shoulder at the train and the waiting station master. Time was pressing. “We’ll write, yes?” She urged Danny, stooping over to kiss the top of his head, “Uncle Thomas will help you write, he’s got very good handwriting, but you’ll have to sign it yourself, hm?” 

The train jetted out steam again. The station master was starting to look a tad bit impatient. 

“I’ll be sending a valise tonight” Margret was now beginning to talk in a rush, “It’ll arrive on the morning train, but- he’ll want to sleep with you tonight. I’ll-“ 

The train whistle blew, loud and shrill into the chilly night air. 

“I understand Margret,” Thomas assured her. 

“Thank you Tommy.” She leaned in to kiss him hastily upon the cheek, her lips tight and warm as she pressed them to his stubbled skin. 

“It’ll be fine, Margie, I promise you. It’ll be fine. Go.” Thomas urged, waving a hand at the waiting train. 

Danny detached from Margret’s skirts with the greatest reluctance, and as Margret began to stumble backwards towards the station master and waiting train Thomas scooped Danny up from the ground lest he think of running to her. Danny was trembling in his arms, pitifully frightened at being parted from his mother even as she allowed the station master to punch her ticket. 

She took to the train, stepping up only to cast a look over her shoulder at her son and brother. 

Thomas waved a hand sweetly to her in fondest farewell. He wondered if Danny could see the tears that were beginning to fall down her face. Suddenly Thomas didn’t know who had it worse in this ugly scenario… the child being departed from his mother, or the mother being torn from her child. 

And just like that, Margret’s head vanished from the door. 

The station master closed the door after her, locking it securely against the cool night air. One wave of a green flag later, the train was beginning to tut away, its great iron wheels churning against the ground. 

The pair of them watched it go, Danny suddenly clinging tight to his neck like Thomas was his only support in a world thrown to chaos. 

“It’s not for forever, Danny.” Thomas whispered into Danny’s ear as the train began to vanish down the tracks and around the bend. For the pitiful whimpering issuing from Danny’s lips, it seemed he was none too sure. 

Thomas allowed Danny to bury his head shoulder, cradling him there as he departed from the train station. As they left the station master tipped his hat to them and Thomas nodded back. 

He supposed the man might have been able to sympathize with the situation despite being a stranger. 

The pair of them walked along the road in absolute silence, Danny hiding in his shoulder and Thomas eager to get him home to the Abbey as fast as possible. He still had Carson to deal with, not to mention Lord Grantham in the morning. Tonight, however, Thomas’ main concern was Danny and making this transition as painless as possible. He suddenly felt as if he were Danny’s mother instead of Margret, and the weight of caring for a child began to crush him as a million questions poured into his mind. Had Danny eaten tonight? When was the last time he’d taken a bath? What on earth would they put him in to sleep, and where would he sleep? He supposed he’d have to ask Mrs. Hughes for help- perhaps Mrs. Patmore could fix a tray. 

The pounding of gravel underfoot caught Thomas’ attention, and he glanced up to see Jimmy running down the main road flitting in and out of the dark in the slim patches of moonlight. He gasped for breath as he came to a stuttering halt before them, coughing as he straightened up to run a hand through his golden hair. Thomas paused in his stride, waiting for Jimmy to catch his breath. 

“Branson done for the night?” Thomas asked. 

“Told that Irish fop he could take care of himself.” Jimmy admitted, and Thomas could not help but smile at the affection he felt blossom in his chest at Jimmy’s sweet sass, “He ran from that white tie like I was holding a live snake.” 

He took one hesitant step forward, then another, looking about for Margret. 

“Margret gone then?” Jimmy asked softly. Thomas nodded. 

“…I see.” Jimmy looked sadly at the way Danny hid his face in Thomas’ neck, silent as a little bird hiding in its nest. “Guess we better head back.” 

And so they did. 

As they arrived back at the abbey, Jimmy knocked on the door so that Thomas could keep a better hold on Danny. It was opened by Mrs. Hughes, who seemed to have been waiting on the other side for them. She let them in with a tutting sigh, and locked the door swiftly after them. As soon as they were inside Thomas was greeted by the sight of Mr. Carson who looked very sour indeed with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“Mr. Barrow,” Carson grumbled gesturing to the open door of his office, “If you will.” 

“Right.” Thomas tried to lift Danny from his shoulder to pass him over to Mrs. Hughes who stood waiting with open arms, but Danny would not detach. He held even tighter, quite frightened, and Thomas heard the tiniest whimper emit from his throat. Thomas shook his head at Mrs. Hughes who tutted again and rubbed a little at Danny’s back. Mr. Carson’s sour expression seemed to melt just the slightest bit around the edges though he still looked heavily displeased. 

“It’s no matter.” Carson grumbled, walking into his office. Thomas followed after him with Jimmy right behind, but as Thomas crossed the threshold Carson rudely closed the door in Jimmy’s face. Thomas pursed his lips, knowing full well there was nothing he could do for Carson’s obvious dislike of Jimmy. 

Now alone in Carson’s office, Danny was even more quiet and still than usual. Indeed, he could have easily been mistaken for being asleep save for how he trembled from time to time. Taking a seat behind his desk, Carson looked truly exhausted from a day and night spent on his feet. He let out an exasperated sigh, regarding Danny with- well… not distaste but certainly not happiness. 

“Mrs. Hughes has relayed to me the necessary information.” Carson grumbled, “This is the boy, I’m assuming?” 

“Yes Mr. Carson.” Thomas stroked Danny’s brown curls absently. 

“You do understand, of course, that this is a working house.” Mr. Carson’s tone was growing more patronizing by the minute, “That we pride ourselves on efficiency and high standards- and that neither can slip simply for the sake of a child, no matter whose child he is.” 

“I understand that, Mr. Carson. I can do my job and care for my nephew at the same time. I’m not a dullard-“ Thomas knew his tone was growing hotter but he did not care. His first priority was Danny and Mr. Carson could, in a word, _stuff it._

“I never said you were!” Mr. Carson sounded quite affronted, but their argument was cut off by a knock on the door which opened to reveal Mrs. Hughes bearing a pitying smile. 

“Mr. Barrow…” Mrs. Hughes closed the door behind her so that they three of them were neatly locked in together, “I’ve made up a cot in your room. It’s a little pinched but it will do for now.” At this she tried to offer Danny a kind smile though he continued to hide his face in Thomas’ neck. “Have you had supper, Mr. Baxter?” 

Danny shook his head, his face still buried in Thomas’ neck.

“We’ll take a tray up to my room.” Thomas decided on the spot. “Being downstairs with the others will be far too much for him to handle tonight.” 

“Of course.” Mrs. Hughes agreed, not unkindly, “A bath and a fully belly and you’ll feel as good as new.” 

Danny, once again, seemed none too sure. 

 

It was hardly a warm welcome from Mr. Carson but Thomas accepted it never the less. The pair of them made their way upstairs, and by the time they’d reached the attic floor the titter of the staff about to eat had faded away into dull silence. Grateful for the quiet, Thomas walked to slowly to his room and opened the door only to be quite surprised by the sight of Jimmy fastidiously making a very large bed in his room. It seemed Jimmy had pushed the new cot offered by Mrs. Hughes right up next to Thomas’ actual bed, and was spreading a great array of quilts atop the mattress to make it as cozy as you please. Upon Thomas’ desk, three heaping trays of roast beef, vegetables, kedgeree and Yorkshire pudding stood waiting. 

Jimmy looked up with a gentle smile as Thomas closed the door to his room with one hand. He’d taken off his jacket and tie, laying them over the back of Thomas’ desk chair- he seemed on the verge of shucking his suspenders entirely with his sleeves rolled up and his vest buttons undone. 

“Y’had no room in here to walk.” Jimmy explained as Thomas ran a gentle hand over his now large bed, “I made it up like one proper bed, an’ I brought your trays… I’ve been a right little footman tonight.” 

“More like a maid, making that bed.” Thomas joked. He sat down on the bed, pulling back a little so as to observe Danny’s waning and frightened face. His cheeks were still blotchy with tears, pale from the exhausting day he’d had as he rubbed fretfully at his reddened eyes. 

“Are you hungry?” Thomas asked Danny. He nodded, still quite silent. “Well you’re in luck.” Thomas tried for a smile, “We have a cook that works here, a Mrs. Patmore.. and she makes the biggest spreads you can imagine.” 

“Just look at the spread she made you, neh?” Jimmy added, but at the sound of Jimmy’s address Danny hid his face again in Thomas’ neck quite frightened. 

“Here, Danny-“ Thomas urged, pulling back again so that Danny was forced to look up and face Jimmy dead on, “Look-“ Thomas touched a gentle finger underneath Danny’s quivering chin. Jimmy smiled, sadness tinging his expression though he tried to keep merry. Sitting down on the bed at Thomas’ side, the pair of them were thigh to thigh so that Danny could hide from Jimmy no longer. 

“This is Jimmy.” Thomas murmured softly. “Jimmy Kent, at your service.” and as Danny regarded Jimmy warily, Thomas nuzzled Danny’s cheek as sweetly as he pleased. “Jimmy is very special to me. The most important person in all the world.” 

Danny’s thumb began itching towards his mouth; Thomas did not make to stop him as he began to suck on the appendage. his other hand was curling in Thomas’ hair, clutching at the oiled black strands near the base of his neck as he took Jimmy in. 

“You can’t have Thomas without Jimmy.” Thomas joked softly. 

“Or Jimmy without Thomas.” Jimmy added, “S’just not done. S’not proper.” 

He offered his hand out to Jimmy a queer little handshake if ever there was one, and after a moment of hesitation Danny brought down his hand slowly from Thomas’ neck to shake Jimmy’s hand. 

“There, see?” Jimmy tapped Danny’s pug nose with the tip of a finger, “Now we’re friends.” 

“And you can go to Jimmy for anything you need.” Thomas urged as Danny lay his head against Thomas’ chest. He looked almost ready to go to sleep. “Because Jimmy loves you just as much as I do. Well-“ Thomas scoffed comedically, “Almost.” 

“Nonsense, don’t listen to this mug.” Jimmy joked, raising a jaunting eyebrow, “We’ve had enough of this foolish chatter, neh? Let’s eat, I’m starved. I worked all day today.” And at that he rose to fetch their three trays. Danny clambered out of Thomas lap to sit in Jimmy’s abandoned spot, and Thomas helped him to take up his tray as Jimmy offered him his napkin. 

“He’s lying, Danny.” Thomas continued to joke, “He helped an Irish Mick not make a mess of his tie, that’s all.” 

“Never known someone to make a finer mess though.” Jimmy grumbled as he squatted down upon the floor, He tore at once into his roast beef with a hearty sigh. “If there’s not mud on it he’s not interested.” 

“Makes you wonder what he sees in Lady Mary.” Thomas wondered aloud, pausing as he helped Danny to cut up his roast beef into manageable bite sizes. Danny tucked into his vegetables while he waited, practically shoveling them in his mouth as if he feared they might run off his plate. 

“I’m sure she’d put on mud quick enough if she thought it’d move him any faster up the aisle.” 

Thomas snorted laughing, offering Danny a fork full of roast beef. He bit into it at once, a fish caught on a lure. 

 

 

It didn’t take much prompting to get Danny to eat his entire tray; but before a bath could be offered Danny keeled over ready for bed, and so Thomas and Jimmy had to struggle to undress Danny with him half asleep upon the bed. They decided to let him sleep in one of Thomas’ night shirts, and it amazed him how his normally tight shirt practically swallowed Danny hole so that he seemed to be swimming in faded white cloth as Thomas tucked him into bed. Jimmy ferried their trays back downstairs, giving Thomas a moment to allow Danny to quiet as he turned off the light and soothed him into darkness. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Thomas to sneak into Jimmy’s bed, or Jimmy into Thomas’ half way through the night, but it seemed by shared telepathic communication the two of them both resolved that tonight should be different so as to allow Danny unbroken rest. So it was that as the hour slipped past midnight Jimmy did not re appear to sneak into Thomas’ bed, and Thomas did not slip out his bedroom door to Jimmy’s. Instead, Thomas curled up bed with Danny tucked to his side and hummed the softest of lullabies into his curled brown hair. Tiny fragments of songs he could not fully remember… and he doubted if any of it helped at all. 

Still. Danny slept. 

 

Yet at one point during the night, Thomas awoke to kicking and squirming, groggy to come to only to jump to realization as he heard Danny’s hiccuping cries upon the air. He wailed as Thomas pulled him back to his chest, and allowed Danny to weep into his night shirt as Thomas wrapped their shared quilt more securely around Danny’s shoulders. 

“Mama-“ Danny whimpered, his breath jaded with tears. 

“Hush now… Hush…” Thomas murmured into his hair, patting his back as softly as he could. The steady _thump thump thump_ seemed to appease Danny, and after several moments of crying he tethered off into an odd quiet. Every now and then he would snivel in the dark… but then he grew oddly still as sleep overtook him once more. 

“Mama…” Danny whispered, pitifully. 

“I know.” Thomas whispered back. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

Soothed, if only for the moment, Danny finally fell back to sleep securely nestled in Thomas’ arms. 

Thomas, however, would be unable to return to sleep for the rest of the night.


	2. Flagrant and Demure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Downton was built on the inability to keep secrets- that and a bit of cement too- so everyone knew a little boy was hiding about the abbey though no one was yet to see him. Every time Thomas came downstairs alone, he caught a maid or two peeking her head out from the kitchen- Phyllis had worried at her lip so much she’d been urged to put a paste on it lest it crack in the newfound cold. Meanwhile up in the attic, Danny was nice and toasty with Nan under his arm, napping as he pleased and stuffing himself on Mrs. Patmore’s renowned lemon pudding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this installment. I won't lie, this work is going to be much much darker than its predecessor. For right now it's all quiet and calm... don't expect that to last much longer. Thank you so much to my readers and reviewers. You make it all possible!

True to Margret’s word, Danny’s valise arrive the very next morning through express post. 

Thomas had been unable to let sleeping dogs lay, and despite Mrs. Hughes insistence that Danny would be fine after a night of good rest and a full belly of food, he rang Dr. Clarkson and got a second opinion. Danny slept through the entire inspection, swaddled in Thomas’ sleeping shirt and uncaring for the way Dr. Clarkson prodded at his swollen face and bruised back. His conclusion was as Thomas feared: a minor concussion. Danny was therefore confined to Thomas’ bed for the first few days, but kept good company with his trustworthy valise full of toys, books, and of course clothes. His most prized possession turned out to be a stuffed rabbit, threadbare and close to losing its black button eyes. Constantly in Danny’s grip, the little rabbit (named ‘Nan’) seemed like a security measure that kept him free of anxiety; he was never far from Nan, holding tight to him with one hand only to suck his thumb with the other. A good patient, so long as he wasn’t bored, Danny wrapped himself up in Thomas’ makeshift master bed like a duckling to a nest, spooning blankets about himself to nap frequently between meals and moments where Thomas came to check on him. Thomas wasn’t the only one either, Jimmy was never too far behind with a new funny story to share or a card game to play. 

All the while, Danny remained relatively silent with his thumb in his mouth. 

Of course, Downton was built on the inability to keep secrets- that and a bit of cement too- so everyone knew a little boy was hiding about the abbey though no one was yet to see him. Every time Thomas came downstairs alone, he caught a maid or two peeking her head out from the kitchen- Phyllis had worried at her lip so much she’d been urged to put a paste on it lest it crack in the newfound cold. Meanwhile up in the attic, Danny was nice and toasty with Nan under his arm, napping as he pleased and stuffing himself on Mrs. Patmore’s renowned lemon pudding. 

When Danny finally dared to venture downstairs, utterly bored with Thomas’ room and the hours he had to spend there alone, he stepped into a strange new world. 

Thomas wondered what it must be like, to observe a working house when you were hardly past four feet tall. Danny’s wide blue eyes took in everything, absolutely star crossed as maids scampered about with linens and Carson bellowed at Andy to straighten his bowtie and scrub the silver with more gusto. Speaking of silver- 

Thomas had never seen such a look of amazement and wonder as the one Danny wore when he saw Mr. Carson’s silver cabinet for the first time. It had all been so inconspicuous at first, a pair of simple wooden doors painted a dulled balmy green… but as Thomas had opened them to put up a pair of polished candlesticks with Danny on his hip (Nan in hand), dulled green had given way to gleaming white. The tiniest hitch of a breath betrayed his amazement at such finery. The son of a stay-in tailor and smith, Danny had never known silver in his life save for perhaps when he might of glimpsed it in his grandfather’s fancier watch cases. He would certainly never be allowed to touch them, but Thomas knew for a fact that Andy was to polish several pieces including a silver cream jug and so he let Danny hold it without white gloves. Danny had held it up to the light, mystified to watch it shine and shimmer. How was he to know that the instrument in his hands was worth five years of Thomas’ salary? 

To Danny, the world was comprised of small wonders. The way that Mr. Carson’s pen set made calligraphy if pressed right, or how Mrs. Patmore’s kitchen smelt of treacle tart and lemon zest depending upon the time of day. He cared nothing for the opulence of the upstairs (not that he had had any chance at all to see it); the finer things in life were the things he could savor physically… such as sitting at Thomas’ feet and playing with Thomas’ pens while Nan sat at his side. He was, by his own admission, drawing Nan’s portrait. Thomas had to admit as he peeked down between his legs that Danny was rather good for a six year old. What Thomas had first thought would surely be a mess of lines akin to a noodle pasta had in fact turned out to be a well executed (if poorly shaped) rabbit with very long ears. Danny was in the process of drawing a basket of carrots for Nan to eat when the door to Mr. Carson’s pantry opened and Danny at once abandoned his masterpiece to hide pitifully between Thomas’ legs with Nan in his armpit. 

Mr. Carson was revealed to be the knocker, slightly irritated by the way that Danny kept Thomas from rising up out of his chair (he was hugging Thomas tightly by the knees).

“The inventory, Mr. Barrow?” Carson drawled, in a voice that hinted towards suspicion as if Carson imagined Thomas had forgotten it. Thomas handed it over at once, newly updated and ready for inspection. Carson accepted, looking slightly less disgruntled as he flicked through the wine lists. 

“Mrs. Hughes wants to give his Lordship’s room one final linen change before we leave for our honeymoon on Friday-“ Mr. Carson gestured to a vacant clipboard upon his own desk with the promised sheets, “If you will, I’ll want it updated before tonight-“ 

Thomas made to stand, to retrieve the wanted clipboard, but Danny’s hold upon his legs was so tight that he couldn’t even rise from his chair. Carson gave the tiniest sigh of disapproval, and in an attempt to keep the peace Thomas bent over to pluck Danny up from the ground to carry him upon his hip. At once, Danny hid his face in Thomas’ neck (as he was wont to do). Thomas paid no mind to it as he fetched Mr. Carson’s clipboard, bringing it over to his own desk to place it atop a mountain of other paperwork. Mr. Carson caught sight of Danny’s drawing upon the floor, and cocked a rather bushy eyebrow at Nan tucked beneath Danny’s arm. Determined to make a better impression, Thomas forced Danny to look up, crooking a finger beneath his nephews cherub chin. 

“Danny-“ Thomas addressed him as Danny rubbed pitifully at his bruised eye (it was growing to be an irksome habit), “It’s very important that you know this, neh? So listen good.” 

Danny nodded, holding tight to Nan. 

“This is Mr. Carson.” Thomas explained, pointing to Carson who regarded Danny with stern authority, “He’s the butler here-“ 

“But I thought you were the butler.” Danny mumbled, slightly confused. 

“I am the under butler.” Thomas corrected him gently, “Not the butler. Mr. Carson is in charge of the entire staff. I work for him, and he’s getting married in two days. He’s going to have a big, glorious wedding… and big, fancy after party with lots of sweets and cake. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” 

Danny’s blue eyes lit up like fireworks at the mention of ‘cake’, and so entranced was he that he momentarily forgot to hide his face as he gazed at Mr. Carson in sheer wonder. 

“And if you’re good you can go to the wedding. You can sit with me and Jimmy, and have as much cake as you want.” Thomas assured him. Now promised cake, Danny sat up straight in Thomas’ grip and immediately dropped his thumb from his waiting mouth, “But you can’t tell your mother-“ Thomas added hastily, for he was sure to have a bent ear should Margret ever find out, “Just say you ate fruit or something and we’ll all back you up, yes?” 

Danny nodded at once, his head practically jiggling in his enthusiasm. 

“But-!” Thomas warned with a wagging finger, “If Mr. Carson ever tells you to do something, you must do it. Quickly, yes?” Thomas urged. Danny nodded again, “No question, no back talk.” 

As if to prove his worthiness for cake, Danny parroted, “Yes Mr. Carson.” so that Carson looked rather chuffed for a moment and almost smiled. 

Almost. 

“You’d make a fine footman-“ Mr. Carson mused. Hearing warning bells in his head, Thomas cut off that dangerous train of thought like a bad weed in a garden patch- 

“You’d make a fine _anything_.” Thomas corrected Mr. Carson with a wary look, “You’re going to be something incredible, Danny. Not just a footman.” 

“There is no shame in a life of service, Mr. Barrow.” Carson warned. 

“It’s not what I want for my nephew.” Thomas warned, for the thought of Danny wasting his life away pampering some lordly toff was enough to make him nauseas. He and Mr. Carson could have surely argued on this subject for hours, turning Danny into an unwilling rope in a tug-of-war, but each side was cut off preemptively by the arrival of Mrs. Hughes who rapt smartly upon the door to let herself in with a clink of keys. 

At once, Danny hid his face again in Thomas’s shoulder. 

“Mr. Carson, his lordship wants to see you in the library.” Mrs. Hughes said. Carson was quick at his pace, gliding along and out the door so that suddenly Mrs. Hughes was their newfound company offering Danny the sweetest of smiles. 

Danny could see none of this, hidden in Thomas’ livery. 

“Oh my.” Mrs. Hughes plucked up Danny’s drawing from the floor, “You’re quite an artist, Mr. Baxter. Is this your rabbit?” 

Danny nodded but kept his face hidden; this rather irked Thomas who had always found Mrs. Hughes to be incredibly kind and understanding- she deserved better manners from Danny. 

“Danny-“ Thomas urged, forcing him to sit up again so that Danny was once more sucking on his thumb and holding Nan close. “This is Mrs. Hughes. She’s the housekeeper here.” 

“What’s a house keeper?” Danny asked, mumbling around his thumb. 

“See those keys she carries?” Thomas offered, and Danny nodded as he glanced at the jiggling array on Mrs. Hughes’ round hip, “She can open any door in the house, any at all.” 

“Even your door?” Danny asked. 

“Even my door.” Thomas replied. 

“I can also lock it too.” She added with a bit of cheek, and just for good measure she winked. Danny smiled around his thumb, “I might just lock your uncle in there one day if he misbehaves.” 

Thomas gave a terse laugh, wondering just how serious Mrs. Hughes was. “Mrs. Hughes is marrying Mr. Carson on Friday.” to which he added to Mrs. Hughes, “Daniel was hoping he might come to your wedding and eat your cake.” 

“I think we can manage that.” She agreed at once with a kindly smile, “So long as you’re good.” 

“Daniel is always good.” Thomas couldn’t help himself in his pride. Beaming, he squashed his face against a nest of Danny’s brown curls to place the firmest of kisses upon his temple. Danny did not attempt to squirm away, which warmed Thomas’ heart considerably as he drew back. 

“Well, Danny-“ Mrs. Hughes offered him his drawing, and he took his thumb out of his mouth in order to accept it from her, “If you ever need anything at all, you come and find me and we’ll put it right, yes?” Danny nodded, smiling, and in an act of fondness Mrs. Hughes reached up to gently stroke Danny’s cheek in one smooth touch. She dropped her hand and walked away murmuring, “Sweet lamb.” Before closing the door behind her on the way out. 

“I like her.” Danny mused. 

“I like her too.” Thomas agreed. 

 

That night, true to his call of ‘duty’, Thomas finished the inventory for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes on the ‘Beige Room’s linens (called as much for its beige colored walls). Jimmy took on the pleasure of holding court with Danny, and after upstair’s supper when Thomas returned with a full inventory Thomas took Danny back once again so that Jimmy could dress Branson for bed. For some odd reason, Branson had been wearing a black tie during dinner. Thomas had a feeling a story was waiting for him come bed time. The pair of them were rather like albatrosses raising their newly hatched chick- one at sea and the other on the nest. As Thomas prepared the final sweep of inventory, a bizarre growling sound started drifting upon the air. At first he thought it was a chair somewhere dragging across the floor, but was shocked to realize it was actually Danny’s stomach protesting its hunger. 

Feeling rather poor at the parenting game for not thinking of Danny’s growing hunger, Thomas spoke up, “Danny, would you like to eat downstairs tonight? With everyone at a big table?” 

Danny didn’t seem all that sure, with Nan in his armpit and a thumb itching its way toward his mouth. This odd half-anxiety often worked its way onto Danny’s face when faced with the unknown. 

“I promise you-“ Thomas tried to make it sound as appealing as possible, “It’s quite fun. You’ll get all the food you like too.” 

How this was supposed to be ‘fun’ was beyond him, but if it got Danny to come out of his shell Thomas was ready to put on a paper hat and pull a few crackers. His awkward enthusiasm garnered him a hesitant nod from Danny, who tucked Nan a little more securely underneath his arm to continue sucking on his thumb. 

“Then it’s settled,” Thomas declared. “Let’s go wash your hands.” 

The pair of them headed out into the hall, with Danny holding tight to Thomas’ tails as they made a bee line for the water closet. Despite being six, Danny often felt the need to prove that he was ‘mature’, and so was the case as he demanded to wash his hands alone. Thomas kept the door open just in case, marveling at how despite only being just tall enough to reach the taps Danny determinedly turned them on and even used soap from the dish. His only time of need came in replacing the hand towel, for despite being able to pull the cloth from the rack he could not feasibly hang it back up. Thomas helped him, folding it neatly and laying it over the rung to close the door after Danny on the way back out. They were greeted by the sounds and sights of Jimmy thundering down the servant’s stairs, flushed and irritated clutching a white bowtie in his fist. 

“How do you get mud on a tie. Tell me how, Thomas?!” Jimmy demanded, agog, “How?!” 

“You’re joking.” Thomas tried, but Jimmy thrust his clenched fist out to reveal a muddied bowtie so that Thomas had to choke down a rude laugh, “You’re not joking, good lord.” 

“He needs a nanny, I swear it.” Jimmy folded the tie up and put it in his trouser pocket, “Have a good day?” 

To this, Danny gave the unexpected answer, clutching Nan tight to his chest to declare, “I’m going to eat cake at Mrs. Hughes’ wedding.” 

Jimmy thumbed his chest with pride, “I as well!” He reached down to gently ruffled Danny’s brown curls, “Let’s get dinner, I’m starved.” 

“We’re eating downstairs tonight.” Thomas said. Jimmy looked mildly impressed. With a wave of Jimmy’s hand, the three of them made their way into the servant’s hall with Danny between them and hiding amongst their legs. As they rounded the bend they were greeted by the sight of Andy, Moseley, John, and Anna all flocking around the table- Phyllis wasn’t back from dressing her ladyship yet. The pair of them didn’t garner much attention but Danny certainly did, and all conversation dwindled to a sudden halt as four pairs of eyes drifted down to Thomas and Jimmy’s knees. Danny, frightened, hid behind Thomas’ legs with his face pressed to Thomas’ thigh. 

“What’r’you all lookin’ at?” Jimmy demanded, eager to get the unwanted attention off of Danny. John was the first to take the hint, shrugging benignly to lean against the mantle of the low lit fire. Beside him, Anna looked positively entranced as she stroked her swollen stomach with itchy fingers. 

“Nothing. Nothing of course.” John muttered. 

It was time to get introductions out of the way. Danny couldn’t be hiding in Thomas’ leg all through dinner. Plucking Danny up off the floor, Thomas perched him upon his hip to walk over to John and Anna, both of whom were quick to notice the hideous green bruise crawling across Danny’s cherub face. Danny pressed his face into Thomas’ neck, holding onto Nan for dear life. 

“So this is Danny.” John said. Anna looked ready to eat him alive with delight. 

“Yes it is.” Thomas said. At his side, Jimmy raked a careless hand through his golden hair so that a large curl atop his forehead fell to the side. In the glow of the firelight, he was positively beautiful and Thomas had to actively stop himself from staring in front of the others. 

“We missed you at dinner the other night.” Anna offered, her voice saccharine in her determination to woo Danny over to her side. Danny just kept hiding in Thomas’ neck, his frightened demeanor putting a firm dampener on Anna’s motherly mood. Slightly sorry for Anna, Thomas urged Danny to sit up (once again) in order to properly introduce the three of them. 

“Danny- c’mon now-“ Thomas soothed. For some reason he was more shy now in the open than he had been in Mr. Carson’s pantry. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Bates. They’re quite nice- well-“ Thomas paused, and for old times sake he gave John a leer better suited to years gone by. “Mrs. Bates is quite nice Mr. Bates leaves much to be desired.” 

At this, Danny went white, clinging to Thomas’ neck like a drowning animal amid a torrential rain as he gazed at John in fright. John scowled, and Thomas had to repair the damage before it was too late. “Only joking-!” Thomas assured Danny. He still looked none too sure. “Mr. Bates is very nice.” 

By Thomas’ side, Jimmy made a shrewd sound of irritation and disbelief. 

Slightly soothed, though still wary, Danny sat up straighter. At last, both Anna and John could fully view the hideous bruise upon his forehead and eye. Anna went pale, slim fingers jumping to her mouth to hide the tiny ‘oh!’ that slipped out. John said nothing to his credit, but his eyes narrowed as he regarded Thomas. He seemed to be reconsidering the concept of murder. 

“…I hope you’re feeling a little better?” Anna offered softly. Danny shrugged, holding tight to Nan lest the rabbit slip and fall to the floor. 

“Mrs. Bates is going to be a mother soon, so you’ll have to help her and give her practice.” Thomas said. Danny gave him the strangest look, as if mentally declaring _‘Don’t give me up to this crazy lady!’_. It almost made Thomas want to laugh. 

“You can sit by me tonight.” Anna offered. “And I’ll let you eat all the pudding you like.” 

At the mention of pudding, Danny perked right up. He even smiled, which set Anna in a delightful mood as she began to titter at his cherub demeanor and adorable smile. She might have gone on complimenting Danny for an hour had Phyllis not finally come down from dressing her ladyship. Upon rounding the corner of the servant’s hall, Phyllis did a double take at the sight of Thomas, Danny, and Jimmy. Though it had only been a few days since Danny’s arrival, Phyllis had yet to see him (much to her loudly proclaimed annoyance). Her tired face split into a delighted grin, and she strode forward at once to take Danny right out of Thomas’ arms. 

“Oh, Danny!” Phyllis hugged him tight. Over her shoulder Danny gave Thomas another concerned look. “Oh Danny, do you know who I am?” She asked, pulling back so that they could stare at one another properly. Danny shook his head, quite nervous. 

“Danny, I’m your Aunt Phyllis.” Phyllis explained, “I’m your father’s sister.” 

Danny’s mouth dropped a little in surprise, his blue eyes lighting up in amazement as he reached out to touch one of Phyllis bound black curls. The pair of them shared a smile before Phyllis hugged him again, and this time it was happily returned. Danny sighed, a tiny soft thing as he cradled Nan to his chest and sucked a bit on his thumb. Finally relieved of carrying Danny around, Thomas straightened the arms of his livery jacket before it could begin to crease. Moseley sidled through, so that both Thomas and Jimmy had to step aside as he came up behind Danny and tapped him upon the back. Danny looked around, confused, and Moseley reached up to ruffle his hair affectionately. 

“Hello, Danny.” Moseley tried for confidence though his voice was still quite shaky. “I’m Mr. Moseley.” 

Danny drew back, eyebrows knitted as he leaned into Phyllis neck. 

“He’s a little shy.” Thomas tried to explain. Moseley looked significantly disappointed as Phyllis kissed Danny’s brow. 

“Ah, well, that’s no matter.” Moseley mumbled, “I’m going to be your uncle soon so we’ll be family!” 

Danny looked distinctly disturbed, glancing at Thomas as if to say _‘Is he serious?’_. 

“Mr. Moseley is marrying your Aunt Phyllis. Though why she agreed I couldn’t tell you.” Thomas added in a mutter. Phyllis shot him a nasty look that Thomas pretended not to see. 

 

The entirety of dinner was spent with Danny as the sordid center of attention. Despite Anna’s insistence and Phyllis’ looks of longing, Danny ended up sitting on Thomas’ lap in between Mrs. Hughes and Jimmy. They ate off the same plate, the pair of them spectators as the rest of the table engaged in small talk and tried to keep from staring. At Thomas’ side, Jimmy kept unusually quiet, constantly looking at the way Thomas helped Danny to eat his peas of cut his chicken. When Daisy came around the table offering tea and freshly baked roles, Jimmy watched her with such wary disregard that it almost prompted a verbal argument when Daisy caught him. Instead, the pair of them just glared at one another; Thomas couldn’t understand why Jimmy was so on edge all of a sudden. Did he think that with Danny in the house, Thomas would be tempted to start courting Daisy again for a shot at family peace? 

Thomas could no more depart from Jimmy than he could his spinal column. Thomas resolved to mention as much later that night. 

After dinner, Danny climbed down from Thomas’ lap to putter about the servant’s hall. Jimmy played piano while Thomas sat next to him smoking, and simply watched Danny explore. For someone so short, it was incredible how much trouble he could get into. Phyllis caught him playing in the soot by the fireplace, his hands as black as coal till she washed them- then he crawled onto one of the rocking chairs with a stable cat snooping for chicken scraps. The pair curled about one another till the cat was half asleep and Danny was no doubt crawling with fleas. Once more, Thomas made him wash his hands, and in a determination to keep him out of trouble (and away from a mangey cat) he took Danny into the kitchen to see if he could get an extra slice of pudding. 

Mrs. Patmore was directing the one lone scullery maid about the room while Daisy worked on the savories for tomorrow’s upstairs breakfast. mushroom sizzled in the pan, creating a soft savory smell that tempted noses in all directions. Just as Thomas had hoped, the chocolate pudding from dinner was still out on the island, yet to be wrapped for the icebox. In the far corner, Andy sat watching Daisy push mushrooms about her saucepan, attempting to read some small book or another. Thomas glanced at him and caught its title: _“Shakespearean Love Sonnets”_. 

Danny tugged at Thomas’ jacket, and Thomas promptly picked him up so that Danny could see onto the island counter where the pudding lay waiting. Mrs. Patmore turned around, wiping sweat from her brow with a meaty hand as the scullery maid cleared away the washed plates from dinner. 

“Oh my!” Mrs. Patmore declared, coming around the island to regard Danny with a fond smile, “What’s this? Is this the little lad I’ve been hearing about?” 

“This is Danny.” Thomas explained. “Danny, this is Mrs. Patmore. She’s the cook who’s been making all your meals.” 

Nervous Danny hid his face in Thomas’ neck, thumb itching for his mouth with Nan close to his heart. Mrs. Patmore glanced around at Daisy who had gone oddly stiff in her stirring, then smiled back at Danny to see how he hid in Thomas’ livery. 

“Goodness, you’re a shy one aren’t you.” Mrs. Patmore observed, neither pleased nor displeased. 

“He’s not shy about eating your cakes and puddings.” Thomas promised her. That put the smile back on her face, ever one to take pride in her hard work. 

“He’s a growing lad!” Mrs. Patmore said. Eyeing the chocolate pudding upon the counter, Danny spoke up with his thumb still in his mouth. 

“They’re yummy.” He said. Mrs. Patmore beamed. 

“Well, thank you!” She reached out, touching his cherub chin, “You’re a handsome one aren’t you? I might have to sneak you an extra biscuit.” 

“He’d greatly enjoy them.” Thomas assured her. Pleased, Mrs. Patmore turned around and forewent the chocolate pudding entirely to instead give Danny the treat of a fudge surely meant for the upstairs supper. She cut him off a piece and returned to hand it over. Delighted, Danny took his thumb out of his mouth at once to shove the fudge in. 

_“Fank oo”_ Danny managed to get out around a full mouth. Mrs. Patmore just pinched his bulging chin. 

“You’re very welcome, Danny.” Mrs. Patmore said. 

“You’re really pretty.” Danny added, just for good measure, and Mrs. Patmore tittered jovially to fetch him a second piece of fudge that was even bigger than the first. Danny bit into it with gusto, making sounds of great pleasure as his blue eyes fluttered closed.

Andy, having observed it all, saw his chance at a sweet and leapt fo rit. 

“Mrs. Patmore, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” He boasted. Instead of offering him fudge, Mrs. Patmore just sneered. 

“Oh no wonder you’re stuck writing sonnets.” Mrs. Patmore snapped. “You don’t know women at all, do you?” 

“But…” Andy was clearly dismayed, “It worked for him!” he gestured to Danny whose fingers were now heavily sticky with fudge. He sucked on each of them, eager to get as much taste as possible. Nan was on the verge of getting sticky if Danny touched the soft fabric with his fingers. Eager to wipe his hands, Thomas strode over to the stove where a dampened rag was hanging on a rung. He took it, wiping each of Danny’s sticky fingers clean as Daisy kept her sour gaze low and focused on the pan. 

When her brown eyes finally did raise to meet Thomas’, they were filled with bitter discontent. 

“… D’you remember-?” Thomas asked, but Daisy cut him off with a cold, “I do.”

She paused, brushing a dull brown hair out of her darkening eyes as she stirred the mushrooms with slight vigor. 

“Do you remember me, Daniel?” 

Danny shook his head, clutching Nan tight to his chest. At the sight of Daisy’s forming scowl, Danny drew back to Thomas’ chest, his other arm sneaking around Thomas’ neck so that they were pressed cheek to cheek. 

“It’s nothin’, Daisy.” Thomas murmured reproachfully, “He only met you once.” 

“Yes, well, it doesn’t matter now does it.” was Daisy’s bitter reply. 

Danny pressed himself even tighter to Thomas’ chest. Displeased at Daisy’s rudeness to Danny, Thomas stepped back to fling the wet rag back over its original rung. 

“Don’t take it out on Danny, Daisy.” Thomas snapped. Daisy froze, still half bent over her pan of mushrooms, “You’re better than that, or so I imagined.” 

Clearly he might have been wrong. 

~*~

Time seemed to do an odd jump forward with the heightened anticipation to Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes’ wedding. Mrs. Patmore, Anna, and Phyllis all took their hand in modifying one of Lady Grantham’s dresses to suit Mrs. Hughes’ needs. Or at least, they did so after a firm telling off by Lady Grantham who apparently had first been under the impression that Mrs. Hughes was _stealing_ her _coat._

Honestly, the nerve of that lot. 

Mr. Carson, understandably, was a jittering wreck and couldn’t keep himself together as he attempted to continue on with his regular duties as well as prepare for his honeymoon. After a lifetime spent in the men’s quarters, Carson now had to pack up every article of clothing he owned to transport it to his new cottage. Thomas tried his hardest not to feel bitter jealousy at Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes promised life together. Mrs. Hughes deserved every happiness (and every coat) that came her way… but that didn’t stop Thomas from wishing it all could be his. What would he give to marry Jimmy. To live with Jimmy and be as far away from Downton as possible. 

But Thomas just couldn’t see a bridge from here to there- couldn’t fathom how a new start in another city would ever be theres…. and it _ate_ at him. 

At present Thomas sat with Mr. Carson in his office, preparing a mess of paperwork that would soon become his sole responsibility as Carson went on honeymoon with Mrs. Hughes. It didn’t bother him that much- a large amount of this paperwork was already under his jurisdiction as under butler… but some of it was new- in particular the wine inventory- and Mr. Carson was more nervous than usual as he watched Thomas over his shoulder preparing a list of wines for dinner. 

“No, no, no-“ Mr. Carson huffed, tapping at Thomas’ paper as he began to write, “Not that one, don’t use the ’97, use the ’91.”   
“Mr. Carson, I wrote down ’91.” Thomas reminded him gently, his tone becoming slightly clipped at the edges with nerves. Carson squinted, leaning in over his shoulder to see. 

“Ah.” Carson straightened back up, pursing his lips, “Did you call the school-“ 

“I called the school house three weeks ago, Mr. Carson.” Thomas warned. He’d been on the phone with everyone in the village to secure the status of the wedding (the reception was to be held in the schoolhouse by Mrs. Hughes request). 

“But did you call them _today?_ ” Carson’s voice took a pained edge, his face going slightly gray as Thomas huffed and rolled his eyes. 

“I called this morning to reconfirm with both the schoolhouse and the church.” Thomas was just growing more and more impatient. Carson began to pace back and forth, tapping his lips nervously with shaking fingers as he wrung his hands. Back and forth he went- tapping and wringing till Thomas wondered if his fat fingers were going to start falling off. 

He tried to put Carson out of his mind, focusing on the paperwork instead, but Carson’s moving shadow was driving him insane. 

“And did you call the-“ 

“And I called the catering, the flowers- honestly Mr. Carson stand still or sit down!” Thomas snapped irritably. Carson stopped pacing at once with an affronted look, “You’re making me a nervous wreck!” 

“You don’t understand!” Carson huffed, growing self-righteous in his anger so that he began to puff and preen like a very old rooster, “A man before his wedding is as nervous as before the birth of his first child. Neither will ever be yours-“ 

They both stiffened, Carson realizing the rudeness of his words and Thomas taking them in. 

No. Neither would ever be his. 

He’d fantasized about marrying Jimmy of course, of taking Jimmy deep into the woods and watching the setting sun turn his eyes a new shade of purple. Of a bonfire afterward and all their friends and co-workers gathering around it to jump across and celebrate. 

It wasn’t to be, he knew that, but… still. It burned him in an ugly way. 

When it came to the birth of a child, Thomas likewise knew that he’d never have that particular pleasure. The closest he’d ever come would be Danny and Tommy- partly a reason why he cared for them so very much. Even in his wildest, weirdest fantasies, it was difficult to picture Jimmy pregnant. To even conjure up what that would look like or make him feel. 

Plum fuck terrified. He’d feel overjoyed and _plum fuck terrified_. 

“I can imagine.” Thomas admitted gently. “If it were me in your shoes I’d be just as nervous.”

Carson sneered at the mere suggestion, continuing to pace back and forth in silence. 

“Yes, I know.” Thomas muttered dryly, his irritation returning at Carson being indignant. “Silly me, thinking of marrying Jimmy.” he tilted his head to the side, scratching out a few more lines on the wine inventory, “Does it surprise you to know that I would if i could.” 

“Not in the slightest.” Carson huffed, though his tone wasn’t exactly unkind, “You were always the one to go against the grain.” 

Thomas smiled mildly, writing down a few more lines. Content, he sprinkled the page with a light dusting of sealing powder and blew on it gently before closing the ancient leather book. Carson watched him, noting how careful Thomas was not to smear the ink or ruined the pages. 

“.. Forgive me, Thomas. I’m behaving badly.” Carson muttered. Thomas glanced up, noting the odd sincerity in Carson’s eyes. 

He didn’t understand, didn’t approve, but he wasn’t unkind about it anymore. He was merely… irritated. Grumpy. Thomas smiled, rubbing at the amputated nub of his pinky which twinged beneath the cover of his sewn glove. 

“Mr. Carson, you have never behaved badly.” Thomas snorted at the thought of Carson ‘letting his eyebrows down’ and being a cad. What a picture it painted, “But you need to get some sleep. Your wedding will be arriving tomorrow whether you see your pillow or not.” 

Carson huffed, taking up his coat and hat from the coat rack on the wall. Yet as he turned to go he cast Thomas a beady eye, his gaze narrowing as he said, “I hope this goes unsaid between us, but do not think that just because I am no longer living on the hall you can now go about in flagrant hedonism-“ 

“Goodnight, Mr. Carson.” Thomas cut him off sharply. He would not stand for being insulted on that subject and smirked at the hidden knowledge that he and Jimmy were already quite flagrant even _with_ Carson living on the hall. 

“I’m warning you.” 

“Yes, yes, very good. Goodnight.” 

With Carson out of the hall, however, Thomas had to admit there were certain advantages. One of them was that Danny could play loudly without fear of being yelled at, and so as Thomas climbed the stairs to the attic he was greeted by the cheerful noise of Danny squealing and Jimmy taunting. He was the last up, with both Moseley and Andy gone to bed long before him, and as he opened the door to his bedroom he was greeted by the heart warming sight of Danny in pajamas shrieking from the floor as Jimmy tickled him mercilessly. Both were in their undershirts, and it amazed Thomas just how much bigger Jimmy was than Danny, who was swallowed up beneath him in a flurry of giggles and pleas. This game soon turned over as Danny raised up his hands in the shape of odd little guns to shoot with a cry of _“Pow, pow, pow!”_

Jimmy, in a flurry of dramatic sighs, keeled right over backwards to lay upon the floor in a gurgling heap. He looked up at Thomas with desperate eyes betrayed only by a boyish grin as he wailed, “I’m dying- fetch a priest! I have to take my last confession!” 

_My god how I love you_ , Thomas thought in wonder. 

“Is that an angel?” Jimmy teased, fingering the cuff of Thomas’ trousers as he pretended to wince, “Are you coming to whisk me away to paradise?” 

“‘Fraid not.” Thomas sneered softy. Danny continued to try and ‘shoot’ Jimmy, his little voice coming up with tiny whooshing noises as he pointed his hands like a pistol. “I’m the grim reaper.” 

“No, it’s an angel!” Jimmy corrected him, his grin turning devilish, “The sweetest angel in all of heaven- the most beautiful cherub sight- my eyes are blinded by beauty!” 

At this, Thomas sneered and rolled his eyes. “I think you shot him a bit too hard, Danny. He’s gone barmy.” 

Jimmy stuck out his tongue, playful. Thomas was utterly charmed. He bent over to pick Danny up, noticing that his hair was a little greasy and could do with a proper wash. With Carson and Mrs. Hughes’ wedding tomorrow, Danny needed to be clean and proper. He’d have to have a bath tonight. 

“Have you had your bath?” Thomas asked. Danny shook his head, greasy brown curls all a wreck in his face. “Then we’ll take one now.” Thomas declared, “We have a big day tomorrow, all three of us. We’ll have to look our best. You can go first, Danny… so you’ll get all the good water.” 

“You better leave some for me, runt!” Jimmy warned from the floor, still toying gently with Thomas’ cuff. 

“M’ not a runt!” Danny declared from Thomas’ arms, “You’re a runt!” 

Jimmy didn’t take kindly to that, scrambling up from the floor to pull Danny right out of Thomas’ arms and tackle him onto the combined bed. The mattress squeaked angrily, covers flying up all around them as Jimmy began to tickle Danny mercilessly while snarling, “What did you just call me? Who’s the runt now, eh? Who’s the runt?!” 

Danny was close to having an asthma attack, practically purple in the face. 

“You’re both runts compared to me!” Thomas declared, hauling Jimmy off and scooping Danny back up off the bad. The poor lad was about ready to piddle on himself from wheezing so hard. “Smelly runts too. Now get a move on, we all three need baths before bed and we have to be up early tomorrow.” 

“You better save me some hot water, I’m warning you.” Jimmy warned, shoving his largest golden curl back from his face so that it flopped down gracelessly upon his forehead. 

Thomas smiled, bending forward so that they could share a soft, quick kiss. 

“Don’t worry, Jimmy.” Thomas murmured, “I’m going last.” 

Jimmy kissed him again, the smell of peppermint temporarily befuddling Thomas’ senses until Danny squirmed in Thomas’ grip and groaned. “Eww! Gross! 

“Gross?” Thomas straightened back up, “I’ll show you gross. Your smelly britches are gross.” 

And so Thomas took Danny for his bath. 

It was funny, to be put in charge of such a task. Thomas had never before been allotted the privilege of a parent, and as much as he cared for the upper children he doubted he would ever be asked to give them baths. Children were incredibly trusting things, and Danny had absolutely no problem in undressing for Thomas to clamber into a warm bath. Thomas put in some salts, eager to speed the process of Danny’s healing bruises, and immediately began scrubbing at Danny’s curling brown locks with a bottle of Cocoanut shampoo. Danny was more interested in playing than breathing, splashing about in the hot water so that Thomas’ shirt sleeves soon got soaked to the elbow. By the time he was finished, Danny was clean and Thomas’ shirt was ready for the Thor washer Mrs. Hughes had had installed in the livery room. 

Thomas wrapped Danny up nice and snug in a towel, drying him off till his curly brown hair was no longer dripping and sodden against his skull. Danny was back to sucking on his thumb, blue eyes hooded with sleep as he yawned and allowed Thomas to return him to their shared bedroom. Jimmy was relaxing upon the bed with his arms behind his head, and watched with lazy contentment as Thomas dressed Danny in fresh pants and pajamas. Nan lay waiting for Danny atop the pillow, perched there as if Jimmy had made to put Nan down for the night. As Thomas lay Danny down, he wormed his way beneath the covers and pressed his face into Nan’s stomach. The rabbit acted as a sordid pillow, cushioning Danny’s head as his blue eyes began to finally close. As Jimmy rose up from the bed, Thomas pulled the covers higher over Danny’s slim shoulders and Danny stuck his thumb (once more) into his mouth. 

“There’s enough water for one more hot bath.” Thomas whispered to Jimmy as he deposited the soiled towel and pajamas in his hamper. Just for good measure he took off his shirt sleeves too- they were sodden anyways. . “You take it.” 

“No that’s not fair.” Jimmy whispered back, “Why not take it together?” 

Thomas looked around, all sorts of wild thoughts popping into his mind at Jimmy’s suggestion. For being incredibly shy, this was a rather bold move, and Jimmy seemed to recognize it as he nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. Thomas noticed his cheeks were flushed bright pink. 

“All I mean is- we’ll be careful about it- nothin’ improper like- “ Jimmy stumbled over his words. “Andy and Moseley are knocked out, Carson’s gone-“ 

Jimmy had a point… and an opportunity wasted might not soon come again. 

“What d’you say?” Jimmy mumbled, “Nothin- nothin- improper like-“ 

“After you.” Was all that Thomas could manage to reply, offering the door with a flourish of the hand. 

Right about now was the time when Jimmy would usually panic and double back; Thomas waited patiently for Jimmy to collect his things from his room, fully expecting for Jimmy to return to his own chambers and call the whole thing off. But Jimmy re appeared with his pajama bottoms flung over his arm only a moment later so Thomas likewise fetched a change of pants. The pair of them made their way to the washroom, as quietly as they dared lest Moseley or Andy wake up and catch with. Honestly if Jimmy and Danny’s rough housing hadn’t woken them, a little bath surely wouldn’t either… but with the promise of Jimmy’s skin so enticingly before him, Thomas didn’t know if he could keep his eyes to himself. 

His hands were easy. Thomas could be incredibly patient when it came to going at Jimmy’s pace. Jimmy’s beautiful body, however, was like a banquet. A feast that Thomas’ starving eyes could savor. Each curve, each lovely inch of golden skin… Thomas felt like he could stare at Jimmy forever and that would be enough. 

As Thomas closed the bathroom door, Jimmy refilled the tub. Thomas watched from the door, noting how the planes of Jimmy’s back and thighs clung to his skin. 

Incredible, really. 

“See?” Jimmy mused as he turned off the water in a half full bath. It was steaming, putting a whole new sheen on Jimmy’s already shimmering hair. In the soft light of the bathroom, where only one bulb worked and the other had died a long time ago, the scene took a helplessly romantic feel. Like the pair of them were locked in a bubble of time wholly unknown to other people. 

Thomas wondered if this was what it felt like, to have a cottage all to yourself. Like when you closed the door, the world became wholly your own. Another surge of jealousy threatened to overtake him, but it was quelled- quenched really- as Jimmy looked over his shoulder and caught Thomas’ gaze. 

“You were going to take a freezing bath if it weren’t for me.” Jimmy mumbled, still obviously nervous as he declared, “You owe me.”

“So it seems.” Thomas noted, though how could Jimmy know the statement was true in many ways not just one, “How can I make it up to you?” 

“Be my personal valet.” Jimmy appointed, “I want to feel like a rich toff just once in me life.” 

Didn’t they all. 

Thomas stepped forward, years of training at the heel of Lord Grantham kicking in as he observed the rumple in Jimmy’s tawny vest… the broken buttons of his trousers held together instead by a bent clasp. Jimmy’s poverty was obvious, just as much as Thomas’… and while there had been a time in Thomas’ life where opulence had dazzled him (such as when he was in Philip’s arms), he had to admit in the here in now it did not matter to him whether Jimmy was wrapped in silk or in broken flannel… so long as they were together. So long as they were happy. 

He undid Jimmy’s shirt one button at a time, taking care as he shed both vest and shirt to hang them over the nearby clothes horse. Next to go were Jimmy’s trousers, shoes, socks, and garters. Each clasp and tug was done with the gentlest care for every round inch of skin it revealed. Thomas feigned to mention that he would hardly feel up Lord Grantham’s calves had he been valeting for him instead, but perhaps Jimmy got the point. He smiled down at Thomas, a little hum emitting from the back of his throat as Thomas looked up from his perch between Jimmy’s legs to run his hands up to the hem of Jimmy’s pants. For a moment he simply toyed with the drawstrings, revealing in how Jimmy’s soft breathing filled the air. 

“Um…” Jimmy’s voice whispered upon the air, “Hmm.” 

Thomas nodded, reaching to Jimmy’s drawstrings to pull them loose and free. As Jimmy’s pants slipped to the floor, Thomas allowed his gaze to be filled up by the lovely sight of Jimmy’s cock. 

It wasn’t the fact that Jimmy’s cock was in some way ‘grander’ than another’s simply by size, shape, or coloration… it was the fact that it was Jimmy’s which so amazed Thomas. Here was the pinnacle, the alter on which he could surely worship Jimmy to his greatest success. 

“Not yet.” Jimmy whispered as Thomas caught his eye again. There was a hooded, dusky quality to them. Something odd Thomas only caught in the earliest hours of the night, “Not now.” 

Of course. Thomas leaned forward, nuzzling the dip of Jimmy’s hip to kiss the tanned skin he found there. Funny how even Jimmy’s palest area’s were golden compared to Thomas’. He rose from his knees, taking Jimmy in his arms to trace the planes of his back with his fingertips. Not a bump, not a wrinkle… everything as smooth as taught silk. 

“S’all Anstruther ever wanted.” Jimmy admitted. Thomas felt an odd tugging sensation and realized that Jimmy was undoing the buttons of his trousers, “To sleep with me. S’all anyone ever wanted. S’like I’m only as good as my skin.” 

_As if_ , Thomas thought irritably, for he’d never heard a more ridiculous statement in all his life. Jimmy was incredibly beautiful, obviously, but at the same time Jimmy’s worth was far from capitalized by his golden skin or shining hair. No, his worth had everything to do with how he banged out every emotion he owned onto the piano. How he played and doted on Danny despite not being related to him or having a dire need to… How he kept his tongue most of the time when Daisy was cold or snide- how when he snapped back he snapped back hard and she had no choice but to hush or suffer. How Jimmy was in both minutes as fragile as a flower and as strong as a tank. How he was sexually insatiable and wild- how he was shy and demure in the next heartbeat with his head tucked into Thomas’ shoulder.   
Like Thomas was his only protector in the whole wild world. 

“They’re fools.” Thomas whispered in Jimmy’s ear. 

Jimmy smiled against his skin. 

By Jimmy’s commanding touch, Thomas shed his undershirt and trousers, till the pair of them were equally nude pressed from thigh to collar bone. The temperature of the water would wane soon if they didn’t take advantage of it soon, and Thomas reached out to touch its surface experimentally before helping Jimmy to clamber into the bath. There was hardly any room for the pair of them, and suddenly legs were interlocked as Jimmy climbed onto Thomas’ lap to spare them some wriggling space. Even so,they were pinched. Funny how Danny could practically swim in this bathtub and the pair of them couldn’t even move their knees without banging into the sides. 

Suddenly Jimmy was demure again, looking quite shy as he blushed and stared at the opposite wall. His cheeks were tinged hot pink. 

Eager to break the odd mood, Thomas tried for a joke. 

“If we’re only as good as our skins, I better not quit my day job.” Thomas mused, noting how hideously pale he was compared to Jimmy. Even in hot water when his skin became flushed, he was still an odd obnoxious gray. 

“I love your skin.” Jimmy said, and Thomas smiled in spite of himself as he reached up to thread a hand through Jimmy’s lovely golden hair. “S’like…” He paused, weighing his words, “Like I’m staring at heaven.” 

“What are you on about?” Thomas asked, confused. 

Eager to prove his point, Jimmy leaned forward tapping Thomas’ protruding collarbones, “See these? These are the gates.” 

He let his fingers slid across Thomas’ pectorals, “These are the clouds.” 

His fingers slipped beneath the water trailing along the wiry thread of black hair that dusted Thomas’ abdomen. Thomas shuddered at the sensation, “This is where you can see the stars, threading through the sky-“ but Jimmy’s fingertips had finally reached the base of Thomas’ prick, and Thomas had to grit his teeth as he gripped the sides of the tub tense. How was Jimmy to know what his touch did to Thomas? Even if he did know that was no assurance he’d stop. Jimmy was a horrific tease, god bless him. 

“S’like…” Jimmy did not make to take Thomas in his hand, his touch oddly polite despite technically being only an inch above his dick, “Like the throne of god,” He whispered, “Like the center of everything good.” 

Thomas swallowed, clenching his fingers against the rim of the tub. If this was not a practice in saintly patience, Thomas did not know what was. 

“Soppy git.” He managed to grind out. 

Jimmy seemed to realize he was partly torturing Thomas, and in an act of mercy relented to wrap his arms around Thomas’ neck again. For a moment there was only steam and quiet as Jimmy buried his face in Thomas’ shoulder and neck. For the warmth and comfort (despite the pinching ceramic of the tub) they might very well have gone to sleep till Jimmy mused, “S’not really bathin’ if all we’re doin’ is sittin’ here.” aloud. 

“I’m allowed my comforts.” Thomas joked, for in truth there was nothing he enjoyed more than an incredibly hot bath. Scalding hot. So hot that someone might call the fire department by mistake. 

Jimmy was never one to let a sleeping dog lay. He took up the bottle of Cocoanut shampoo from its ceramic holder on the rim of the tub and lathered it beneath the water to start working on Thomas’ hair. Thomas allowed him work as he pleased and at his own pace. God only knows he needed a bath after his exhausting regime. Jimmy even cupped water in his hands to rinse Thomas’ hair out, and at this point Thomas had to help him along lest his get soap in his mouth and eyes. Jimmy was next, with Thomas returning the favor till their shared bathwater was an odd milky white from soap residue and they could no longer effectively see beneath the surface. 

 

Jimmy relaxed onto Thomas’ chest again, thoroughly clean and soaked to the skin. Glove off, Thomas held his arms about Jimmy in a protective embrace as he gently washed his war wound and amputated pinky nub. Jimmy watched, not making to help (sometimes these things were better left to Thomas alone). Instead his closed his eyes, hear pressed right atop Thomas’ heart which beat steadily at a calm pace. 

“… I can hear your heart.” Jimmy mumbled, half-asleep. 

Relaxing a bit, Thomas dropped his hands to let them play over Jimmy’s shoulder and waist. He buried his nose in the top of Jimmy’s hair, the smell of coconut rich in his dampened curls. Thomas closed his eyes, allowing that scent alone to fill him up. 

“It beats for you.” Thomas mumbled back, and though he could not see it Jimmy smiled.


	3. Here Comes the Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You gonna… Let him talk about your daddy like that, Tommy?” Mr. Baxter leered. 
> 
> Thomas wondered how best to approach this conversation. To attempt to keep the peace, or to hold his ground and be firm. Phyllis had begged for his cooperation the night before but Jimmy was right behind him and Margret was taking Danny from David’s arms. Both needed his support to endure in the storm. 
> 
> “I didn’t know if you recognized me.” Thomas replied, keeping his tone calm. 
> 
> “Course I recognized you…” Mr. Baxter chuckled, his smile gentle. For a moment, Thomas thought there would be peace until, “You got your Daddy’s face an’ your momma’s walk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are starting to get darker folks. Thanks in advance to all my readers and reviewers! It means so much to me that you're still participating in this ongoing story.

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes’- (Carson, Hughes, no one could make up their minds on what to call her now) wedding went without a hitch. Married in the local church and honeymooning in Stonewall, the pair of them were waved off by all they knew and loved in a great array of fanfare that distinctly lacked the upstairs snobbish resort. There were no silver trays, no petite h’orderves or oysters on the half-shell… instead Mrs. Hughes had a big sit down banquet full of breakfast foods prepared lovingly by Mrs. Patmore and Daisy, and enjoyed every blessed second of it. Mr. Carson couldn’t have been prouder, gloating and gleaming from the head of the table as he passed out roasted chicken and stuffed potatoes. Danny, true to his word, was as good as any child could be and sat perfectly still during the wedding. Come time for the banquet, however, all sense for manners went out the window as he begged Thomas for the biggest slice of wedding cake that could be allowed and shoveled the whole blessed thing in his mouth. By the end of it, pink and white cake icing covered his little lips, which were creeping into a dreamy smile as he began to descend into a sleepy state. Dr. Clarkson was there, and after the banquet collected two birds with one stone as he checked Danny for any more health problems. 

“I’m afraid now the only thing you’ll have to contend with will be a sugar coma.” Dr. Clarkson had joked as Thomas had wiped Danny’s lips with a linen napkin and allowed him to doze on his shoulder. One soft snore later Danny was asleep and Thomas had made his excuses from the wedding party. Jimmy had followed, peeling a tangerine for the pair of them and sniggering the whole way home. 

The next day, life resumed as usual… save that Thomas was now butler.   
And boy, was that odd. 

Being butler meant a reduced workload for Thomas in regards to physical labor… Such practical tasks fell to Andy and Moseley, not to mention the hallboys (or rather hallboy, as Lord Grantham had reduced their staff significantly the previous months). It did, however, mean that Thomas was now in charge of disciplining everyone- something that both sent people running and laughing at the same time. When Carson disciplined you, you often were left squirming in your shoes feeling like a belligerent child in need of a spanking. When Thomas disciplined, there were apparently “two levels” (or so the others swore). The first was a mild chastisement, a simple ‘don’t get smart’ or a ‘watch your step’. The second level was one hint above Satan, involving Thomas bearing down on Peter the hallboy or Andy with such malevolent scorn that they went running to Mrs. Patmore for cover. 

Thomas now had to clean her Ladyship’s jewels, a task which often fell to Phyllis but at times involved Carson instead. With Carson gone, it was Thomas that got to sneer at all the diamonds and rubies that Lady Grantham owned, such as her Countess Coronet which was only worn during ceremonial occasions. He was also now in charge of managing the wine cellar, extending to the proper decanting and servicing of wines… something which Carson adored on a level that bordered close to insanity but Thomas found utterly boring. Thomas had opened the wine inventory to find that Carson had left him a little hand written pamphlet on the management of the cellar, dictating everything from the choice of wines to the temperature and bottling process. This was absolutely ridiculous, because they didn’t even bottle at the Abbey anymore. Apparently they hadn’t done so since the Benedictine monks had held court int he buildings the formed the actual foundation of the Abbey itself… but apparently Carson had thought he would be interested to know. Carson had likewise left a handwritten note (or rather book) about what to do in case there were any royal visits from the King and Queen. 

Because apparently there was a possibility for that to occur. 

The King and Queen did not visit the Abbey, which was no less than Thomas expected, but an odd stiffness did that inhabited Lord Grantham’s every move. He seemed… worried, overtaken somehow, about money and the Abbey in the coming new years. Thomas knew that the lives of servants could not be expected to continue in a changing world. People were modernizing and soon Lady Maids and Valets would probably go out of style… god only knows about footman and under butlers. What it boiled down to was that Thomas’ future (and Jimmy’s) was no longer safe… and that didn’t set right by Thomas. 

He didn’t want to be a servant- he hated it really- but he couldn’t say that out loud downstairs or risk ‘social suicide’. John and Anna seemed to regard it as a calling in life- Mr. Carson was practically Lord Grantham’s personal rug, Mrs. Patmore just liked the stability of it all and Phyllis wasn’t even taking a honeymoon with Moseley. Apparently the honeymoon for them was moving into their new cottage on the edge of the estate. 

Thomas and Jimmy? They’d set the whole place on fire and dance around it naked if they could get away with it. 

The way Thomas saw it, they had two options: either bow out by their own accord or be forced out with no plan b. He knew which one he’d take. 

Jimmy wanted to return to London and to rejoin Jack Ross’ band. This was deeply problematic for Thomas, because he couldn’t sing and Jimmy seemed to be under the impression that he could. As far as Thomas was aware, he possessed absolutely no musical talents, and he’d only have a job in Jack Ross’ band for as long as it took Jack to figure that out. If Jimmy wanted to move to London and work in the band, Thomas would have to move with him and somehow find a job that allowed him to live outside the estate. He’d made a few enquiries, sent some letters, but the answers all came back the same. Either they didn’t want help at all and were even reducing staff, or they wanted help that could stay on the property at all times. In other words… be a rug. 

Thomas didn’t know what to do. 

Carson and Mrs. Hughes had been on holiday for three days, and were bound for two more. Scheduled to return the day of Phyllis and Moseley’s wedding they’d called yesterday to notify that they would unfortunately not be making the train back in time to attend the ceremony but would instead be arriving later that night. Apparently they were planning on visiting their cottage while on holiday and wanted to spruce it up. 

Now at the servant’s table in Mr. Carson’s usual seat, Thomas kept calm court over Danny (who was drawing a picture of Phyllis in a wedding dress) and Jimmy (who was dictating what ought to go on a wedding dress). It was night, quite late, and all the other servants had gone up for the night. The only reason they were still downstairs was because Phyllis had yet to go send a late telegram in the village. Thomas would have to wait for her to return so as to lock up the downstairs. Their only company at the moment was in Mrs. Patmore, who was still in the kitchen putting the last finishing touches on the Phyllis’ wedding cake. Earlier Danny had gotten the delight of his life when Mrs. Patmore had allowed him to lick the bowl. Now drawing, Danny continued to suck on his spoon with care. So far Phyllis had seven layers to her skirts and a veil past her ankles. She was carrying what looked like an entire shrub in her arms, and had such a wide smile that the corner of her mouth were touching each side of her face. 

Jimmy glanced up at Thomas, still mulling over a half-finished cup of tea.   
And just like that, the old argument was struck up again. 

“Just call Jack and talk to him,” Jimmy urged, “Just see what he says.” 

“Jimmy,” Thomas groaned, setting his own tea cup aside, “it doesn’t matter what he says if I can’t sing or play.” 

“Have you ever tried?” Jimmy demanded. 

“Well, I mean-“ 

“How do you know if you’ve never tried?” Jimmy demanded. 

“I have a good guess.” Thomas grumbled. 

Singing was something he could simply never do. Singers had to preform under immense pressure, had to woo an audience with their voice to the point of ovation or suffer the horrific sensation of being booed offstage. The mere thought made Thomas go cold all over. 

“Ninny-“ Jimmy teased as Danny continued to scribble his drawing, “Chicken livered ninny, you’re scared-!” 

“I’m not scared of anything!” Thomas lied. 

“Really?” Jimmy taunted, pushing back on his chair so that he was balancing on the back two legs, “Then sing for me.” 

“What?” Thomas snorted. 

“Sing ‘for he’s a jolly good fellow’ right now.” Jimmy snapped. 

“No!” 

“Chicken.” and at this Jimmy had the god damn audacity to make squawking noises, shoving his hands into his armpits to flap his elbows up and down as if to show wings. Thomas’ jaw dropped, an indignant furious humor filling him up. Had it been anyone else but Jimmy, he would have started plotting their demise. Perhaps an innocently missing snuffbox or a odd detraction to the wine…. but it was Jimmy so Thomas simply sat there and took it. 

Not quietly, however: “You’re going the right way for a smacked bottom.” He warned irritably. 

Jimmy wiggled his eyebrows, aubergine eyes lighting up with mischief, “That a promise?” 

“Cheeky.” Jimmy just kept wiggling those lovely golden eyebrows. 

A terse cough from the doorway but a sudden end to the flirtatious situation, both of them looking up to see Phyllis standing in the shadows with her coat in hand. 

She was holding a telegram in hand, her expression a mixture of something hopeful and tense as she spoke up, “I don’t mean to interrupt.” 

Thomas waved a hand for her to enter, feeling rather like a king on his throne, “It’s fine, Jimmy’s being a prat.” 

The prat in question flashed Thomas a naughty look, taking a slow sip of milky tea. 

“I wanted to speak with both of you.” Phyllis admitted, taking a seat across from Jimmy to lay her coat across her lap, “Or rather…” She drifted off, her eyes catching Danny as he continued to scribble another layer onto her wedding dress. Thomas caught the hint and coughed so that Danny looked up curious. 

“Danny, Mrs. Patmore has a whole jar of treacle, did you know that?” Thomas would have been a fool to miss the way Danny’s eyes lit up with delight. “I bet if you spoke sweetly to her she’d let you have a spoon.” 

Danny shot off his chair like it were scalding his bottom, pattering across the floor in a rapid flurry of feet for Mrs. Patmore’s kitchen so that the sudden sounds of jovial laughter graced the far off corner of the servant’s hall. 

_“Mrs. Patmore, are you an angel?”_

_“Oh Danny you cheeky little thing-! How did your mouth get so sweet?”_

_“Your treacle!”_

“So what did you want to talk about.” Thomas could not keep the infectious grin off his face at the dulled sounds of Mrs. Patmore’s cooing. Phyllis was close to laughing to, a light hand over her mouth as she worked to regain control over her facial features. 

“It’s about my wedding, or rather, my guest list.” Phyllis explained. Thomas could gather this had something to do with the unsent telegram, and nodded as Phyllis continued on. 

“I invited Margret obviously-“ 

“Obviously.” 

“My family are naturally coming.” 

“Naturally.” 

“Our families were good friends in our youths.” Phyllis carried on, her voice growing more tense though Thomas could not see why, “To be fair they still are now… Particularly my father and yours.” And at this she caught his eye with a nervous stare, “He knows about you and he’s not sympathetic. He’s close to your father… and he’ll be walking me down the aisle.” 

Jimmy grew tense in his seat, pausing mid-sip of tea to stare at Thomas. For a moment both of them were silent, neither eager to make assumptions on Phyllis’ speech. 

“It took me ages to reconcile with my family after… you know….” Phyllis bumbled along, nervous at the near mention of her past incarceration. Jimmy raised an eyebrow, still in the dark. “I need this to go well, but I’m nervous. I’m worried there might be a problem. You have to promise me that no matter what happens you won’t do anything… silly-“ 

But at this, Jimmy took automatic offense. “So let me get this straight.” He sat his teacup down with a sharp smack upon its ancient saucer. “We’re the ones who are going to do something silly?” 

Phyllis gave Thomas a pained look, desperate for him to explain to Jimmy the gravity of the situation. He still found it funny that even now others often urged him to do the talking to Jimmy- as if he and he alone could get across to Jimmy from a massive chasm between. 

“Well, you’ve got a hot temper and I’m no better with my mouth.” Thomas offered. 

“Well maybe they deserve it.” Jimmy grumbled, staring moodily into his nearly finished cup of tea.

“Maybe.” Thomas conceded, “But her wedding day isn’t about our personal vengeance.” 

Jimmy glanced at the half-finished drawing of Phyllis in her wedding dress, of her massive smile touching both ears and her massive bouquet. He rolled his lovely purple eyes, finishing his tea off with one swallow as he conceded silent defeat. 

“Fine.” Jimmy muttered, glancing up sharply to add, “But his father isn’t coming, right.” Jimmy jerked his head in Thomas’ direction. Thomas looked to Phyllis for an answer, and worriedly enough found her chewing upon her bottom lip. 

“Well…” She gestured to the telegram on the table, “That’s the other thing. I’d like it if-“ but she stopped cold at the look of sheer fury on Jimmy’s face contorted face. Phyllis pursed her lips, glancing at Thomas for help. 

Thomas had none to offer her. 

“… If you think I shouldn’t-“ She mumbled meekly. Jimmy cut her off with a sneer. 

“I think you shouldn’t.” He all but hissed. 

“Fine. Then there’s no need for me to send a telegram tonight.” She took the telegram and put it inside her coat pocket, taking off her dark purple cloche and traveling gloves. “I won’t invite Thomas’ father if you promise to behaving with mine.” 

“You won’t be inviting Thomas’ father in any sense.” Jimmy corrected her, and Phyllis slumped in her chair utterly exhausted by Jimmy’s hard-boiled attitude. Thomas had no sympathy for her. Jimmy’s anger was justly deserved, and it had been rather foolish of her to imagine inviting his father was a good thing when his father was apparently attempting to get sober, beating Danny, and guilty of whacking off his finger. 

Making peace was one thing, making a massive error was another. 

“Jimmy…” Phyllis sighed, rubbing at her temple which seemed to be bothering her, “You know I love Thomas, I don’t like the bitterness between him and his father, but I have to accept that it’s there. Ignoring it won’t make it go away-“ 

“Well said.” Jimmy snapped. He rose up from his chair, passing behind Thomas to head down the darkened hallway, “I’m going out for a smoke.” 

This, of course, would be slightly difficult for Jimmy to do alone since he had no cigarettes and only smoked from Thomas’ pack. 

“Do I have your word?” Phyllis asked softly, “That you won’t fight with my father?” 

“You have more than that.” Thomas assured her, un eager to pick a battle with Mr. Baxter. “Keep an eye on Danny.” He rose up, heading off after Jimmy into the dark. 

The night was growing quite chilly now, with the October stars turning slightly blue around the edges. An ugly night wind pulled at even the thickest coats and gloves- Jimmy was surely freezing from where he stood sulking by the fence of the courtyard where cobblestone turned to grass. Thomas approached him from behind, coming around his left side to trail his hand lovingly across Jimmy’s tense shoulder blades. 

“This fence taken?” He joked, leaning against the rotting wood with his back to the fields. Jimmy had his head in his arms, glaring irritably out at the shifting weeds and far off trees with both swayed in a night wind. Far off, a barn owl hooted it’s delight at a captured vole. 

For a moment there was only silence as Jimmy regarded the grass and Thomas regarded Jimmy. He gently touched Jimmy’s hair, letting the large blonde curl flop back onto his forehead as Jimmy sighed and straightened up. They both looked incredibly weary. 

“What’s he like?” Jimmy asked. “Her father, I mean?” 

“Mr. Baxter?” Thomas mused, grimacing as he recalled a scowling face from childhood. “Well, he’s pretty creepy if I’m honest.” 

“What do you mean?” 

The very first time Thomas had met Samuel Baxter, he’d been five years old and holding tight to his mother’s hand as they’d crossed the street. The Baxter’s had not been living long on the street, and after not being in church on Sunday had garnered an ugly reputation in their largely Protestant community. Baxter had only made this worse when he’d gone to the local pub (The Dog and Duck) and made an ass of himself getting drunk and insulting local farmers. He’d gotten into a bar fight, that only gotten worse when he’d accidentally threw a punch at Thomas’ father. 

Thomas’ father had ended the fight with one hard punch to the face, knocking Samuel Baxter clean out and earning himself a free round of ale on the house from cheering farmers. Amazing how the dark horse of the village could be clapped on the back with pride when only the pulled for the opposite team. Thomas’ father, instead of accepting the ale and being jovial, had gotten even madder, snarled that he could pay for his own drinks fine enough, and then had promptly drug Baxter from the floor to throw him over his back. He’d staggered home, depositing Baxter upon his new doorstep and heading to his house to promptly crash into a table and fall asleep on the stairs to the second floor. 

Thomas, being only five, had brought his father a pillow from his own bed to cushion his face on the stairs, and then had promptly gotten his mother. The next morning Nathaniel Barrow was safely in his own bed nursing off a hangover and Alice Barrow was heading over to the Baxter residence to offer a sympathy cake to Mary Baxter. The pair of them had caught on like a house on fire, both nursing alcoholic husbands and needy children. 

When Samuel Baxter had finally staggered upright, groaning but sober, Mary Baxter had demanded that he go over to the Barrow residence and put the whole situation right. So, he’d staggered over to clock shop, banged on the door, vomited on the stoop, and burped out an apology to Thomas’ father. 

Thomas’ father had accepted, and slammed the door in Samuel Baxter’s face. 

And that, as they say, was that. 

Samuel Baxter was, by Thomas’ memory, an unnerving man. He, just like Thomas’ father, had a frightening way of making you think every next move could be a punch. You couldn’t control a drunk, and by that same line of thinking you couldn’t control Samuel Baxter. All you could do was stay out of his way, and try not to anger him. Thomas’ mother, who had always been very understanding of his father’s friends (to the point of welcoming criminals and fiends to her dinner table) had never fully enjoyed Samuel Baxter. She’d been nervous around him, so much so that despite being good friends with Mary, she’d been unwilling to go over when Samuel was at home. Instead, she’d only come over when Samuel was out, and whenever Samuel had been over at their house she’d insisted on being present. In particular, she’d never left her children around Samuel alone. She’d sat with her sewing box, needling late into the night as Samuel and Thomas’ father had drank themselves half to death in the living room cursing their community and their own fathers. 

Thomas could distinctly remember hearing his own grandfather arguing with his father about Samuel Baxter. 

_“He’s bad news, boyo!”_ his grandfather had warned, ancient voice gravelly with disuse. _“Get that bastard off your doorstep or suffer for it!”_

_“Go fuck yourself.”_ had been Thomas’ father’s reply, prompting a near fist fight that one of Thomas’ uncles had had to break up. 

“He’s got a criminal record.” Thomas finally explained, realizing that he’d been far too silent and that Jimmy was watching him worriedly. “When he moved to Stockport nobody wanted to do business with him. My father and him caught on like a house on fire because both of them were black sheep in the community. Mum…” Thomas shook his head, rubbing his jaw in thought, “Mum never liked him much. They didn’t talk about it but Mum was always nervous about him. Put her on edge, I think… Put me on edge too.” Thomas sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. “He’s just a drunk, like my father. Both of them fall on and off the bandwagon regularly.” 

“Great.” Jimmy scowled. 

“Listen,” Thomas reached out to run his fingers through Jimmy’s lovely golden hair, smiling as Jimmy leaned into his touch to nuzzle his palm, “He’s going to be focused on Phyllis, alright? Not us.” 

“Yeah but still he’s gonna be there.” Jimmy mumbled into Thomas’ palm. Thomas frowned. 

“It’s his only daughter’s wedding. Would you rather he be somewhere else?” And for the first time Jimmy looked slightly guilty. “Remember, he’s Danny’s grandfather too.” 

“Yeah but what if he smacked Danny around too?” Jimmy wondered aloud, his expression growing dark again. 

“Not that I know of.” Thomas assured him at once, “Samuel Baxter might be dangerous but he’s not a child abuser. He’s not like my father. My father’s worse.” 

This was hardly comforting, in hindsight. 

“…I don’t want you to be in danger.” Jimmy whispered, continuing to nuzzle Thomas’ palm. He brought up both hands to stroke the leather glove, fingers dancingly softly around Thomas’ amputated pinky. 

“Hey.” Thomas urged, using his hand against Jimmy’s face to make sure he looked at him, “I won’t let anything happen to either of us. You know that.” And with that he leaned in to gently cradle a kiss against Jimmy’s lips. For a moment there was only silence as Jimmy accepted the touch and tilted his head to a better angle. Peppermint clouded Thomas’ brain, and he breathed deeply as they drew back from one another. 

Jimmy sighed, aubergine eyes clouded with something Thomas could not recognize. Odd thoughts of the future perhaps. 

“Thomas, why don’t you talk to Jack?” Jimmy mumbled, and Thomas nearly laughed for the sudden change in topic. 

“I will.” He urged with a smile, running his free hand through Jimmy’s curly hair, “I will talk to Jack. I just don’t want you to think a miracle’s gonna happen.” 

“But you will talk to him.” 

“I will.” 

“And you promise you’ll keep an open mind?” Jimmy added just for good measure. Frowning, Thomas let his hand drop a little from Jimmy’s hair to stroke his skin head, running his thumb up and down Jimmy’s lovely cut jaw. 

“Jimmy.” Thomas took his face in both hands, staring deeply into his eyes and hoping this time the message would finally get through, “I cannot sing.” 

“Prove it.” Jimmy replied softly, Thomas stroked the corners of Jimmy’s plump lips with his thumbs, “Sing for me right now. Sing something.” 

Thomas pursed his lips, trying to come up with a song. The only one he could think of in that moment, looking deep into Jimmy’s eyes and loving him so dearly, was the record Jimmy had sent him back when he was still courting Daisy and miserable in his loneliness. 

Wondering how his voice would even sound coming out, Thomas tried for the tune. 

_“After you’ve gone and left me crying…”_ Thomas paused, coughing a little, _“After you’ve gone there’s no denying…”_ but he broke off, unable to go on for embarrassment. 

_“You’ll feel blue, you’ll feel sad-“_ Jimmy urged, smiling. 

_“You’ll miss the bestest pall you’ve ever had-“_

__“Ahah-“ Jimmy advised, stopping Thomas with a finger to his lips, “When you do it you have to lilt up and down.” and at this he sang, _“You’ll miss the bestest pall you’ve **ever** had-“_ _ _

___“There’ll come a time, now don’t forget it.”_ Thomas laughed, _“There’ll come a time when you regret it. Someday, when you grow lonely your heart will break like mine and you’ll want me only-“_ _ _

__Jimmy was fully out smiling now, delighted, _“After you’ve gone, after you’ve gone away-“_ His hands dropped from Thomas’ face, taking him by the waist and shoulder to spin him a little around. It was as if the two of them were out at a jazz hall instead of freezing by a rotting fence post. _ _

__“C’mon, belt it.” Jimmy begged._ _

__Thomas screwed up his eyes, and prayed he didn’t break a window somewhere, _“Oh- you’re gonna miss me baby-“_ _ _

___“And I don’t mean maybe-!”_ Jimmy cried out loud, his voice beautiful and proud chorusing up to the stars. _ _

__Thomas opened his mouth, ready to finish the song, but even as he did so the back window to the kitchen was thrown right open so that a sudden gust of steam puffed out. Mrs. Patmore’s shriek of anger drowned both Thomas’ and Jimmy’s singing voices out, forcing them to stifle giggles and clutch at each other desperately as she screamed, “What is this?! A dance hall?! Stop making a ruddy racket, some of us are trying to get work done!”_ _

__Jimmy clapped a hand over his mouth, desperate to keep his laughing down._ _

__“Ridiculous shirty peacocks!” Mrs. Patmore screamed into the night air, “We’re not payin’ you to sing!” and with that she slammed the window again._ _

__Thus was the end of Thomas’ very short (if not brilliantly acclaimed) singing career._ _

__~*~_ _

__The morning of Phyllis Baxter’s wedding dawned bright and clear, promising for good weather as the servant’s scampered about preparing to make ready. The servant’s hall was cleared and set for the after party, Mrs. Patmore put the finishing touches on the wedding cake, and Phyllis Baxter’s mother took the first train up from Stockport to help Phyllis get ready in a handmade wedding gown. Their wedding was to be in mid-afternoon with Anna taking over Phyllis’ duties as Lady’s Maid for the night and Jimmy promising to step in as an extra footman if need be over dinner. Given that no guests were coming, save for Mrs. Crawley and the Dowager Countess, it was very unlikely. The real chaos would be below stairs as the after party raged around a still-working house. Chums from Moseley’s youth and the village were coming over, not to mention many of Phyllis’ friends from Stockport. The most highly anticipated return, however, was Margret- Danny had been running up and down the halls shrieking ‘Mummy!’ with glee all morning long and could not be stopped._ _

__No one was trying to stop him. They were too busy laughing at his antics._ _

__Come mid day, about an hour or two to go till the wedding itself, Thomas sat in Carson’s office getting last minute paperwork done while Jimmy dialed Jack Ross’ number and Danny bounced around the room._ _

__“Mummy, mummy, mummy!” Danny squealed, leaping back and forth and holding Nan to his chest._ _

__“Yes, I know!” Jimmy grinned, handing the ringing phone over to Thomas, “Mummy!”_ _

__“Shh, Danny-“ Thomas chuckled, “I won’t be able to hear!”_ _

__“Mummy! Mummy!” Danny squealed till Jimmy plucked him up off the floor and clapped a hand over his mouth. Danny just continued to giggle, pink in the face as he kicked his chubby little legs. All three of them were in suits, their hair well combed and their slicked with Brilliantine for the wedding- now was not the time for horseplay._ _

__The phone suddenly picked up, and a dark dulcet voice from the other side offered up, _“Jack Ross.”_ _ _

__Thomas smiled, relaxing in Carson’s swivel chair a little as Danny relaxed against Jimmy’s hold. Satisfied, Jimmy let him back down to the floor._ _

__“Mr. Ross, this is Thomas Barrow.” Thomas said, only to be cut off by a short sharp laugh from the other side._ _

___“Well I’ll be damned,”_ Jack said, _“Thomas Barrow, how is my piano player?”_ _ _

__“Missing you.” Thomas flashed Jimmy a small smile. “I wanted to speak with you if you had a moment.”_ _

___“I have plenty. My next set is three days away and the boys are getting lunch._ ” Jack explained. _ _

__“It’s about Jimmy’s and mine situation.” Thomas admitted, unsure of how best to word this ridiculous question, “Money’s getting tight and we’ve more or less been given a packing notice preemptively. I was wondering about that offer you made to Jimmy regarding returning to London and working for him again-“_ _

___“It holds still.”_ Jack assured at once, and Thomas’ heart leapt with optimism, _“Percy can’t play piano for tuppence and Jimmy is the smoothest cat this side of Berlin.”_ _ _

__“I agree with you on that.” Thomas watched as Jimmy re smoothed Danny’s wildly frayed hair, “It’s just-“ Thomas coughed, nerves getting to him again, “See, I was wondering about- well- what I’m trying to say is-“_ _

__Jimmy wouldn’t stand for it. He snatched the phone from Thomas’ hands so that Thomas was suddenly left gaping and flapping his hands at thin air. Jimmy grinned cheekily, phone to his ear as he said, “Jack, it’s Jim!”_ _

___You cheeky little devil!_ Thomas thought irritably as Jimmy continued to boast over the phone. _ _

__“Fine, missing you lot.” Jimmy paced a little upon the floor as Danny walked around Carson’s desk to clamber into Thomas’ lap. Thomas held him by the waist. “How’s Elvira?” Jimmy grinned at whatever Jack said, “Yeah, well, tell her I miss her too. Listen-!” Jimmy winked at Thomas. “Remember how you were talking back in April about needing a new backup for you and Elvira? I swear to you Jack, Thomas can sing like a damn dove, he needs to try out!”_ _

__Thomas made a round of angry noises, hoisting Danny off his lap and back off the floor as he rose from the chair and headed around the desk. Jimmy jerked back, refusing to let Thomas near the phone even as he lied through his shining teeth._ _

__“Danny, don’t let him get me!” Jimmy begged, and suddenly Thomas’ knees were locked by Danny’s pudgy arms as Danny hugged him tight about the waist._ _

__“Jimmy, stop!” Thomas hissed angrily._ _

__“Yes!” Jimmy was crowing into the phone, “Yes, I swear he can! Look, the only thing is he’s never sang professionally… but Elvira can teach him- oh god yeah we’re coming back-!”_ _

__But this was a flat-out lie. They’d not given in their notices, had no living situation in London, and were talking in vague concepts. Jack had a business to run, a band, and he couldn’t be in charge if he didn’t have the facts. Angry Thomas reached out despite how Danny held him tight to the knees and snagged the phone from Jimmy’s hands._ _

__“Jack!” Thomas snapped._ _

___“Who a-am I talking to now?”_ Jack sniggered on the other end, clearly tickled pink at their bickering. _ _

__“Thomas!” Thomas snapped, “Because Jimmy is a four year old and cannot control himself-“ Jimmy grabbed the phone again, shouting into the receiver._ _

__“Tell Elvira to tutor Thomas!”_ _

__“Don’t bother this woman-!” Thomas snagged the phone back._ _

__“Bother her!” Jimmy cried out, tugging the phone hard again._ _

__Thomas had had enough. Snatching the phone back from Jimmy for a final time, he reached around and put Jimmy in a head lock with one arm to pinch the phone between his hear and his shoulder to hold the receiver with his one free hand. Jimmy gasped and floundered in his hold, but could no longer successfully take the phone back. Down below them, Danny regarded them with a disturbed expression._ _

__“Look, Mr. Ross-“ Thomas snapped, “I know Jimmy’s said I can sing well, but I don’t think I’m anything to write home about-“_ _

___“Let me be the judge of that.”_ Jack urged, _“I’m not expecting Chick Bower to come out of your mouth. All I’m expecting is to hear a cool cat sing me his tune. Jimmy’s got big faith in you, and that counts for something.”_ _ _

__“There’s a threat in there somewhere.” Thomas thought aloud, looking down to where Jimmy was still squirming in his one armed hold._ _

___“Look when can I expect you back?”_ _ _

__“That’s the thing, we haven’t been asked to leave yet and we’ve got a bit going on at the moment.” Thomas said, “Let me hold off for a month-“_ _

__“A month?!” Jimmy shrieked, breaking out of Thomas’ hold to glare at him with hair flopping into his face._ _

__“I mean-“ Thomas cursed internally at Jimmy’s betrayed expression, “I’ve got to give my notice even if- I just-“ He was stuttering now, unable to make up his mind, “Jack I have to go.”_ _

___“Look, listen to me, Thomas.”_ Jack said in a rush, clearly expecting Thomas to throw down the phone at the drop of a hat, _“No pressure, no rush, okay? The offer stands whenever you’re ready. Be it a month or three months. I don’t care. Just take your time, alright? But I will say this… we’re performing for a duke on the twenty-fifth of October-“_ Thomas glanced at the calendar to read the telling date of October 5th, 1925. Twenty days… _“If you could be there for that and sing with us that would be incredible. It’s gonna be at the Criterion, a big crowd to promise a huge debut for you if you make it. It would be good press for us.”_ _ _

__Except, of course, if Thomas got booed off stage by a furious crowd._ _

__“I’ll…” Thomas stuttered, suddenly overtaken by a massive wave of stage fright, “I’ll let you know in a week, okay?”_ _

___“I look forward to it.”_ Jack sounded sincere, _“Tell Jim I’m giving his mother a kiss.”_ _ _

__“Uh-“ Thomas was thoroughly confused at this, for surely Jimmy’s mother was dead? Still, he looked at Jimmy who was still scowling to say, “He’s giving your mother a kiss?”_ _

__Jimmy’s scowl broke for a moment into a small soft smile. He took the phone from Thomas, no longer tugging to speak into the receiver._ _

__“Tell Elvira that her golden son misses her fondly.” Jimmy said in return. He smiled, nodding, “Bye, Jack.” and hung up the phone at long last._ _

__His scowl was firmly back in place as he smacked the phone down on Carson’s desk. “A month?”_ _

__“What?” Thomas demanded._ _

__“A month!” Jimmy sneered, “I ask you-“_ _

__“Jimmy, I-“ but Jimmy was turning away, picking up Danny as he went. “Handing in my notice will take at least a week at bare minimum and Carson doesn’t come back until tonight!”_ _

__“Oh whatever.” Jimmy grumbled, taking his coat off the peg from the door. He opened it, heading outside, Thomas hot on his heels as he made for the back door._ _

__“Jimmy!” Thomas cried out, irritable._ _

__Jimmy looked over his shoulder, the pair of them crowding the deserted back stoop as Jimmy shrugged on his coat with only one working arm to smile over his shoulder._ _

__Thomas huffed and puffed, shrugging on his own coat nervous of a fight that might break out. He didn’t want to argue with Jimmy over this, not when he could not conceivably see a logical way out. Instead Jimmy only smiled, and reached out to fix Thomas’ button hole- his pink rose had grown slightly loose in its hold._ _

__“C’mon.” Jimmy murmured, his voice sweet and soft, “Sot.”_ _

__

__Thomas grinned, relieved as the pair of them headed out the back door._ _

__The walk to the church was bright, sunny, and clear. The air was still crisp, with October now fully upon them and barreling towards November, but there still was no snow upon the ground and even a few wildflowers were unafraid to poke out their heads. The Downton Church was packed to the eaves, with people pouring out of the front steps as they congregated on the stoop. Thomas scanned the crowd hopefully for his sister, but couldn’t find Margret anywhere and wondered if she was with Phyllis inside. As they reached the sidewalk and stepped up, however, both Thomas and Jimmy were startled by the sudden arrival of Anna. She seemed to pop up out of no where, flush faced and disturbingly distressed as she clutched her tan cloche to her head and looked desperately about the crowd. When she saw Thomas, she made a bee line towards him and grabbed him painfully by the arm._ _

__“Thomas!” Anna pulled him away from Jimmy, dragging him up the main steps of the church before he could say a word, “We need your help, quick!”_ _

__“Where’s the fire?!” Thomas demanded irritably as he was swept away from Danny and Jimmy. He looked over his shoulder as Anna drug him off, calling out before the crowd swallowed him up:_ _

__“Jimmy! Take care of Danny and find Margret!”_ _

__He got one last sight of Jimmy grabbing Danny off the ground before he could be trampled by the crowd before Anna took him through the wide church doors and made a sharp right. The pair of them walked down a long tiled hall till they came to a stairwell ascending to god knows where. Up they went, Anna first, with Thomas being drug all the while scowling loudly._ _

__“What on earth is going on?” He demanded angrily. “Is there a reason you pulled me away from my nephew?”_ _

__“You’ll see.” Was all Anna said as they reached the landing. Once more she took a right, taking him down a short bright hallway that seemed to be separate entirely from the church body in that it looked less like a house of worship and more like…well… a house. They came upon a room, slightly cramped but none the less sunny, with high windows and waxed wooden floors. There in the center of it was Phyllis on a footstool next to an antique vanity covered in makeup applicators and other beauty tools. She was lovely, like a swan covered in lace from head to toe with small freshwater pearls dripping on her dress and a crown of lace upon her head. In her hands, limp upon her lap, lay a bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath, along with a soiled handkerchief that was completely sodden with mascara and…. tears._ _

__She was weeping, her face running and ruined._ _

__“Oh Jesus-“ Thomas blurted out, suddenly feeling like a massive bastard for every silly comment he’d ever thrown about Moseley in the past week. Now realize the great disaster surely at hand, Thomas dropped to his knees before Phyllis to try and look her in the eye from under her veil, “Phyllis, listen, I know I was being a shit about Moseley before but really he’s your bloody soul mate, you can’t be getting cold feet now-!”_ _

__“I’m not getting cold feet you cad!” Phyllis hiccuped, and just for good measure she cuffed him about the ears with the hand holding a sodden handkerchief as if to reprimand him for even insisting on such a thing, “My father’s drunk!”_ _

__“…Oh.” Thomas was slightly confused as to how this constituted as an emergency seeing that Samuel Baxter (by his memory) was always drunk._ _

__“He can’t walk me down the aisle.” Phyllis admitted, and there was such hurt and heartache in her voice that once again Thomas felt like a fool, “He can hardly walk himself.”_ _

__“Oh…” Thomas sighed again, this time in complete understanding as he rubbed the back of his- oh! “What about David?” Thomas asked at once, the idea popping into his head._ _

__“David’s taking care of him!” Phyllis protested, sniveling, “My mother can’t handle him by herself!”_ _

__Thomas looked from Phyllis to Anna, both of whom seemed to be beseeching him silently with pleading expressions. Phyllis just kept sniveling, wiping at her ruined eyes with her soiled handkerchief._ _

__And then he understood._ _

__“Oh- no.” Thomas shook his head somberly, “No, Phyllis that’s a bad idea.”_ _

__“Why?” Anna begged, “You’re already like a brother to her-“_ _

__“The priest isn’t too fond of me.” Thomas warned, fully aware of just how irritable the clergymen would be should a homosexual be found walking a blushing bride down the aisle._ _

__“He’ll be less fond of a drunk.” Anna urged, but Thomas still wasn’t too sure._ _

__“Let me take care of your…” Thomas trailed off however, imagining just what a drunken Mr. Baxter would have to say about Thomas latching onto his elbow. No, no, it was decidedly a much better idea for the safety of the congregation and Thomas’ remaining pinky if David continued to watch over his father. “Shit.”_ _

__Phyllis whimpered, chewing on her lips. Her lipstick was beginning to fade._ _

__“Please, Thomas.” She whispered, “Please.”_ _

__He looked up at Phyllis and considered all that she was to him, all that she had been in the past years. From faded childhood friend to closest confidant, Thomas would have died had it not been for Phyllis’ intervention. She alone had had faith in him when no other had dared to look his way twice. He was grateful, and he knew it._ _

__How could he say no?_ _

__“…Oh… Alright.” Thomas murmured at long last, his heart warming considerably at the look of sheer delight and relief spreading across Phyllis’ ruined face, “Alright, I’ll walk you.”_ _

__Anna was very pleased indeed, practically bouncing on her heels as she left the room, “I’ll tell the wedding party.” With that she whisked off down the hallway and stairs, leaving them alone as Phyllis swiveled upon her foot stool to lift her veil and try to re-fix her ruined makeup. Thomas offered her his clean handkerchief, which she took gratefully to dab one final time at her eyes. Her own handkerchief was ready for the wash._ _

__“… You look like a raccoon.” Thomas made for a feeble joke, which earned him the tiniest laugh from Phyllis who had already snatched up her powders and rouge. Thomas watched her work, amazed at how she could transform her face so swiftly even with shaking hands and watery eyes._ _

__“Course I’ll walk you.” Thomas rose up from the floor, speaking more to himself than Phyllis as he walked aimlessly about the room. It was clearly a bridal suit, meant for preparation- there was hardly any room to turn about, “And Moseley is real nice, you know.” Thomas finally added, feeling he ought to for the sake of posterity though god it was difficult, “He’s uh… he’s really- he’s got a- … he’s not my type.” Thomas finally summed up, earning him a full hearty laugh from Phyllis who re-lined her lips._ _

__She turned, her bouquet in her lap, and reached down to pluck one of the pink roses free. Thomas watched as she offered it up to him for his button hole, and he accepted it at once to place it safely upon his breast. Now they matched well, and Thomas squatted back down by her knees to take her hands again and look up into her sparkling eyes. They were still red and inflamed, but no longer looked like they belonged to a raccoon._ _

__Thomas had a feeling Moseley would have married her anyways, even if she did look like a rabid animal._ _

__“I saw you…” Phyllis whispered, her voice throaty and hoarse. Confused, Thomas merely listened as she continued on, “The night your father cast you out? I saw you in the street.”_ _

___-Thomas screamed as he hit the slushy sidewalk, freezing from the snow beneath him; his legs shot into his chest, his arms coming up to hide from the cold. He looked up to see his mother, running for the door barefoot and clad only in her housecoat as she tried in vain to reach Thomas in the street-_ _ _

__Thomas shuddered, jerked back into that powerful childhood memory before he could remember himself. Phyllis paused, watching the strange emotion pass across his expression._ _

__“I wanted to run to you.” Phyllis whispered, as if there were thirty people in the room and she wanted none of them to hear, “But my mother locked the door. I always wanted to tell you that… that I’d seen you. That I knew. That in a way, I understood. And all the time in jail I kept thinking “This is how Thomas must have felt”… when none of them would write to me or talk to me-“_ _

__Her expression was growing traitorous again, and her lip began to wobble. Determined not to have her cry and ruin her wedding twice, Thomas reached up and gently took her chin in hand to keep it firm. Phyllis blinked back her tears, sniffing softly as Thomas ran his thumb back and forth upon her powdered flesh._ _

__“… You are the brightest star in the night sky, Phyllis Baxter.” Thomas declared, as soft and sweet as if he were speaking to Jimmy instead, “And Joseph Moseley is the luckiest man on earth to have you.”_ _

__Phyllis’ response was to slide a little off the footstool if only to take Thomas in her arms. Their hug, though sweet and sincere, was unfortunately short as an unexpected knock came at the door and both of them pulled back from the other’s embrace. There was Anna, once again, smiling sweetly as she rubbed her baby bump through her sunny yellow dress._ _

__“It’s time.” Anna declared. Phyllis drew a nervous breath, shuddering as she rose to her feet. Thomas went with her, helping her along as Anna re-fixed her veil and adjusted her train upon the floor. They walked out the door, Thomas going first down the stairs so as to keep out of the way of Phyllis’ train. The wedding crowd was safely inside the church with the doors to the main cathedral closed to give Phyllis time to prepare. As Anna helped her to the bottom step, she slipped out the side no doubt retaking her seat in the crowd. Arm in arm, Thomas and Phyllis made their way over to the closed cathedral doors and took a small moment to re-focus themselves._ _

__Phyllis was trembling, but only slightly. Thomas could sympathize, and squeezed her gloved hand supportively._ _

__Then, as innocently as you please, Phyllis turned to Thomas and whispered something that could ultimately have the power to change her entire life._ _

__“Should I do this?” In that moment when push came to shove, she looked just the tiniest bit unsure._ _

__Thomas smiled at her, cocking a suggestive eyebrow._ _

__“Y’think I’d let you get this far if you shouldn’t?” Thomas offered back. Phyllis smiled- beamed really- re assured as she squeezed Thomas’ hand one more time. Before them, the church doors finally opened to reveal a massive crowd packing the aisles with Moseley down at the end._ _

__There, far up near the front and on the left, Thomas caught a glimpse of Jimmy standing next to Margret. Both were beaming with Danny between them, standing on the seat in order to see with the rest of the crowd. Margret wore a pink dress, framed in white lace and looking as lovely as rose bud in May. She and Jimmy were positively star struck to see him walking Phyllis down the aisle._ _

__Emboldened by their support, Thomas stepped out and Phyllis Moseley née Baxter followed._ _

__~*~_ _

__

__The wedding, though slightly tense at the beginning, ended on a flawless note. The meek and mild Moseley who had never raised his voice in all his life impressed the entire congregation by kissing Phyllis so intensely upon the mouth that her back bowed a little to let one foot pop up. One great cheer from the audience later, they were pronounced man and wife without another word to the contrary, and the pair of them swept down the main aisle amid a fan fair of rice to head back for the abbey on a decorated cart loaned by Mr. Mason._ _

__Thomas and Jimmy walked back to the abbey with Margret and David, Danny between them and swinging on their hands in sheer delight._ _

__Back at the abbey, food and music soon turned the normally drab servant’s hall into a gay scene. Moseley had already drank three glasses of spiked punch, shaking everyone’s hand left and right as he pronounced this day the greatest in all his life._ _

__Thomas tried hard not to let bitter jealousy ruin his mood for Phyllis’ sake… but it was a difficult thing to do. He kept on picturing what a party might look like for his own wedding, and failing to make the image complete. Would there be cake? Would there be dancing and laughing? Would there be a bouquet to toss or fancy clothes to wear?_ _

__Would there be two policemen to escort them to prison?_ _

__Thomas watched through disenchanted eyes as both Lady Grantham and Mrs. Crawley entered the servant’s hall to wish the happy couple a bright and keen future. Lady Grantham boasted how lovely Phyllis looked, while Mrs. Crawley shook Moseley’s hand with her pep-up attitude of optimism. The entire time, Thomas kept his eyes on the back corner where Phyllis’ mother, Mary Baxter, was standing next to Samuel Baxter with both hands on his shoulders to keep him from falling over onto the floor. He was slumped on a rickety chair, completely ignored by the crowd to be forgotten in the back. At his side, David looked very sour indeed with his arms crossed and his gaze narrowed. No one seemed to have put two and two together that David was Danny’s father- or perhaps they just didn’t want to approach Samuel Baxter’s cold corner. He kept looking wistfully across the servant’s hall to stare at his wife and son, no doubt longing to join them if only to get away from his drunk father. Danny waved at David every so often, Nan tucked under his arm. Twice, when Danny made to put his thumb in his mouth, David caught his eye and shook his head sternly. Danny had to drop his thumb, looking thoroughly put out._ _

__“So, is it just me, or do all the men from Stockport wind up raving drunks?” Jimmy mused over his glass of punch, elbow to elbow with Margret who nursed her own in her free hand. On Margret’s other side, Thomas continued to watch Mr. Baxter with wary discontent. The sooner he left, the better._ _

__“He said he wanted to ‘celebrate early’.” Margret scoffed, “I guess he celebrated too much. Something about both his children being married now… i’m unsure.” she sighed._ _

__“Mommy, can I go home with you tonight?” Danny begged, linking his arms around her neck. Her smile waned as she set down her glass of punch to stroke Danny’s cheek, touching the fading bruise about his eye._ _

__“Not just yet, love.” Margret murmured. Danny looked morose, “Grandad is still getting better, but not to worry! I’ll have big news for you soon!” She pinched his cheek sweetly._ _

__“Big how?” He asked, clearly worried._ _

__“Oh sweet love-“ She laughed, kissing his nose, “Don’t worry. You’re not going anywhere without the rest of us. Big changes are afoot for our family.”_ _

__“Care to tell?” Thomas wondered what Margret was alluding to. She shook her head, picking up her glass of punch for another swig._ _

__“No, David wants to talk to you about it, actually.” Margret admitted. Now Thomas was thoroughly intrigued, and set down his glass of punch to straighten his red tie._ _

__“Alright then, let’s go talk to David.” Thomas decided, squaring himself up as he began to make his way across the room. Jimmy made a noise like an angry fox, abandoning his own glass on the servant’s table to head across the room hot on Thomas’ tail. Poor Margret was left all by herself, scoffing and hissing her objection with a confused Danny in her arms._ _

__“Thomas, wait, no-!”_ _

__But Thomas wasn’t the only one heading across the room._ _

__It seemed Phyllis was tired of ignoring her own parents, and was heading across the room with Moseley on her arm. He looked nervous but determined, a fine attitude to have when facing off with a raving drunk you were now related to. David saw the four of them coming (Thomas, Jimmy, Phyllis, and Moseley) and distinctly rolled his eyes to the ceiling as if asking an omnipresent god for help. At very last minute, bid by her desperate husband, Margret bit the bullet and started walking over with Danny. Now there were three vacant cups on the servant’s table._ _

__Thomas reached the Baxter’s first. Mr. Baxter’s head was lax upon his shoulders so that he seemed to be staring at his knees. Whether he was awake or asleep, Thomas did not know. Behind him, nervously gripping her husband’s shoulders, Mrs. Baxter wore a tight smile that didn’t meet her eyes and a faded pink dress. Everything about her seemed to insist on a nervous breakdown, from the way that she drummed her fingers to the way she kept flicking her eyes across the room. Like she expected the whole room to burst out laughing and ridicule her._ _

__Somehow, she unnerved Thomas more than her husband, though he couldn’t say why._ _

__“Thomas!” David greeted him warmly, extending his hand to shake his own. Thomas gladly accepted, the pair of them smiling warmly at each other. Davids’ smile grew warmer, sweeter, as Phyllis approached with Moseley on her arm._ _

__At Thomas’ elbow, Jimmy hung back… not exactly nervous but not exactly happy._ _

__“Phyllis.” David murmured, and he leaned forward to kiss his younger sister gently upon the cheek._ _

__“David.” She replied, teary eyed with affection._ _

__“Joseph-“ David shook Moseley’s hand, with Moseley suddenly a little too enthusiastic so that he nearly knocked Phyllis in the side with a flailing elbow. David’s grin quirked at the corner, confused by Moseley’s antics. “You’re the man who stole my sister’s heart?”_ _

__“Oh- well- I wouldn’t say that-“ Moseley blustered, “I wouldn’t ever like to be known for stealing anything- I mean not that thieves are irredeemable or foul or-“ And with that he let out a flurry of hysterical laughter which did not at all benefit the situation._ _

__David looked slightly disturbed.  
Phyllis bowed her head. _ _

__“Well-“ David tried to salvage the situation as best he could, “I’m grateful to you, Joseph. Our family needs good news, and I know you love Phyllis.”_ _

__“With all my heart and soul.” Moseley urged, and despite being an utter buffoon when under pressure his adoration for Phyllis poured out in that moment and charmed her older brother. David seemed to relax a little, put at ease by Moseley’s obvious sincerity._ _

__David touched his father’s shoulder, attempting to rouse him from his drunken stupor. It worked, somewhat, so that Samuel Baxter snorted a bit and raised his head only to let it fall again. He grumbled, shrugging David’s pestering hand off._ _

__“Dad.” David persisted in shaking, “Dad.”_ _

__Finally, Mr. Baxter looked around. His expression was mutinous, clearly disgruntled at having been woke up from his well timed ‘nap’. His wife was embarrassed, drumming her fingers nervously as David scowled, “It’s Phyllis. Why don’t you greet her husband, your new son in law? You know?” David jerked his head in Moseley’s direction who seemed baffled at the idea that a father would be drunk on the day of his daughter’s wedding._ _

__“Davy-“ Mrs. Baxter spoke in a breathy voice, “Don’t be mean.”_ _

__David gave his mother a wary if not disgruntled look, but spoke no more on it. Mrs. Baxter ignored her husband altogether to lean forward and peck Phyllis lightly upon the cheek. Thomas noticed that her smiles never seemed to reach her eyes, like her happiness was all an act to be dropped the moment the lot of them were out of earshot._ _

__“Philly-“ Mrs. Baxter’s use of a pet name did nothing to alleviate her wariness, “You look so beautiful darling.” She reached out to gently pluck at Phyllis’ lace, making sure her wedding dress lay smooth and flat._ _

__“Thank you mum.”_ _

__“Goodness, you’re the prettiest bride to ever wear one of my gowns.”_ _

__Thomas looked over his shoulder and noted that Margret had gotten stopped halfway across the room by Anna who was clearly singing Danny’s praises. Hopefully the two women would entertain one another long enough for this conversation to be concluded- Thomas didn’t fancy Danny being pitted against Mr. Baxter, particularly when the man was still rolling his head about on his shoulders like his neck was screwed on wrong._ _

__He didn’t know why but the action unnerved him._ _

__“Mr. Moseley-“ Mrs. Baxter offered her hand in a nervous shake, which Moseley accepted at once. The pair of them were like nervous twittering birds._ _

__“Joseph, please-“ Moseley insisted._ _

__“Joseph, you take care of my little girl now.” Mrs. Baxter urged._ _

__“I aim to make her the happiest woman in England.” Moseley declared, and Thomas had to privately admit that he believed Moseley thoroughly. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Jimmy, who flashed him a dark smile but remained resolutely silent._ _

__They were both nervous._ _

__“Pretty girl-“ Came a dark voice from below. Everyone’s gaze went down to stare at Mr. Baxter who finally stirred from his chair to reach up with a weathered hand and grasp at Phyllis’. She was quick to dote on her father, lovingly stroking the wrinkled browning skin of his palms with her own gloved ones. “You keep your chin up, yeah?” Like a self-fulfilling prophecy Samuel Baxter finally raised his head, and Thomas was given a good look at the face of a man who’d never known an easy day in his life._ _

__Samuel Baxter had a long jaw, weathered around the edges from a life spent frowning with thin lips and a hooked nose. His dark eyes were bagged, his graying hair salted over and wavy in a short cropped cut. The tips of his shirtsleeves and tie, pinched to his throat, covered up the barest edges of a tattoo that he’d no doubt garnered in his prison stay. Thomas had known only a few men with tattoos, including a sailor who’d once pressed Thomas against the back wall of the Criterion and plundered his mouth raw. They’d never caught his interest before, but on Mr. Baxter they just made him look more rugged and unnerving. He suddenly found himself wondering if perhaps he should invest in getting a tattoo in an attempt to be tough. Perhaps the name ‘Jimmy’ in his bicep that he could flex and show off._ _

__Which wasn’t ridiculous at all._ _

__“I try to have a good time, an’ everyone gets mad at me…” Mr. Baxter slurred, tilting a little in his seat this way and that, “S’wedding! Oughta celebrate!”_ _

__They were interrupted upon before Mr. Baxter could ramble anymore but Margret with Danny in her arms. David’s smile grew more relaxed, genuine and warm as he let go of his father’s shoulder to step around Thomas and take Danny from Margret’s arms. Danny went willingly, hugging his father around the neck and happily accepting a scratchy kiss from him. David’s chin featured a slight need for a shave. Margret rubbed David’s back, her slim fingers spreading as she hugged her husband close. It warmed Thomas’ heart to see them both so incredibly happy, content with one another._ _

__“Danny…!” Mr. Baxter slurred, making but David and Margret stiffen as Danny looked around with wide fearful eyes. He looked like a rabbit caught in the jaw of a fox, and Thomas saw Danny’s thumb itch to the corner of his mouth like he meant to start sucking._ _

__David caught his hand and forced Danny to lower it, keeping him from indulging in the nervous habit._ _

__“Danny….” Mr. Baxter grinned lazily, the edges of his teeth yellowed and slightly sharp, “Where you been boy? Missed you in my field. Didn’t have someone pickin’ my apples.”_ _

__“I’ve been here, Grandpa.” Danny admitted, his voice small and soft. Thomas found it interesting to not that his own father was ‘Grandad’ and Mr. Baxter was ‘Grandpa.’ What did that make Mrs. Baxter and his mother?_ _

__“Here.” Mr. Baxter scoffed his distaste under his breath. Thomas caught Moseley glancing at Phyllis nervous, “What are you, a toff now?”_ _

__“No sir.” Danny shook his head slowly, none of his cheerful and inquisitive personality present before his grandparents. Thomas wondered if this was why Margret and David had refrained from keeping Danny at David’s parent’s house._ _

__“We’re keeping Daniel here just for the moment.” Margret explained, “He’s staying with his Uncle Thomas.” And at this, Margret smiled sweetly at Thomas earning her a wink._ _

__Mr. Baxter paused, glancing up at Thomas, but said nothing to him. The peace held, if only for a moment._ _

__“Well….” Mr. Baxter tried for another lazy smile, alcohol reeking on his breath, “how about… You come stay with me, eh?” And with that he reached up to pinch at Danny’s dangling foot, jiggling it a little in cheeky humor, “Come stay with your Grandpa and Nana…. hmmm?”_ _

__David scowled, and Mr. Baxter’s grip slipped from Danny’s little boot. “No dad, that won’t work.” David warned._ _

__“Well why not?” Mr. Baxter grumbled, crossing his arms irritably._ _

__“Because you drink, your best friend drinks too, and he’s been beating my son. Yeah?” David’s voice was becoming just the tiniest bit irritable, a warning sign to a dangerous argument that was about to follow._ _

__“Ah….” Mr. Baxter waved it all off like it wasn’t bordering on child abuse, “Nathan? Don’t be-“_ _

__“Dad-“ David growled in warning._ _

__“Don’t be hard on Nathan!” Mr. Baxter snapped, his tone surprisingly firm for a man teetering on drunk. Thomas noticed Margret’s hands itching up to take Danny from David, to bring him back into her arms, “Nathan’s got a rough… rough time… Poor man.” Mr. Baxter mused._ _

__But then his eyes drifted to Thomas, and they became cold with a sneer. Thomas stiffened, waiting for the blow._ _

__“You gonna… Let him talk about your daddy like that, Tommy?” Mr. Baxter leered._ _

__Thomas wondered how best to approach this conversation. To attempt to keep the peace, or to hold his ground and be firm. Phyllis had begged for his cooperation the night before but Jimmy was right behind him and Margret was taking Danny from David’s arms. Both needed his support to endure in the storm._ _

__“I didn’t know if you recognized me.” Thomas replied, keeping his tone calm._ _

__“Course I recognized you…” Mr. Baxter chuckled, his smile gentle. For a moment, Thomas thought there would be peace until, “You got your Daddy’s face an’ your momma’s walk.”_ _

__Margret visibly shrank back, glancing from Thomas to David._ _

__“Danny- why don’t you introduce me to Mrs. Bates?” Margret said, pulling back, “She was so sweet to you, I want to thank her properly.”_ _

__Danny didn’t make a fuss about it, going willingly with his mother as she drifted away and back towards the main throng of people. True to her word, Margret found Anna by the table with John and Lady Grantham- the three of them doted on Danny in turn, with Lady Grantham even reaching up to pet a lock of Danny’s curly hair._ _

__David looked even more tense than before, his fists clenched. The tense silence between their group was broken by the oddest member: Mrs. Baxter, who reached out a hand to shake Thomas’. Thomas noted her grip was incredibly sweaty._ _

__“It’s so nice to see you again, Thomas.” Mrs. Baxter said in a clipped tone, “How have you been?”_ _

__“Very well, thank you Mrs. Baxter.” Thomas replied, his tone decidedly short. He didn’t need a magnifying glass to know this woman disliked him. She might have doted on his mother but her affection had never stretched to the Barrow children._ _

__At least, never to Thomas._ _

__“Are you the butler?” Mrs. Baxter asked, gesturing around to the other servants that were still milling in their day clothes._ _

__“Stand in.” Thomas explained, “I’m the under butler. Our butler is away on his honeymoon.”_ _

__“Oh my.” Mrs. Baxter dithered but said not more as her husband began to chortle again. He rubbed at the edge of his mouth with the back of a weathered hand._ _

__“You ah… under butler.” Mr. Baxter repeated, to chuckle louder and say, “Under what?”_ _

__Nobody laughed with him. Behind Thomas, Jimmy cracked his neck, his aubergine eyes incredibly tense. Like a panther ready to pounce, Jimmy clenched his fists and waited._ _

__“Papa please…” Phyllis whispered, beseeching for peace. She was totally ignored._ _

__“Told me ‘bout your finger.” Mr. Baxter added, and Thomas quickly placed his gloved hand behind his back to keep it from being seen. “Rough, huh?” Mr. Baxter’s attempts at sounding sympathetic were far from impressive, “If you’d been a good son you might still have that finger-“_ _

__“He lost that finger because his father is a raving drunk.” Jimmy snapped, speaking up for the first time in the conversation. Both Mrs. Baxter and Mr. Baxter regarded him with great wariness. Thomas raised a hand, hoping to cut Jimmy off, but Jimmy was on a roll, “Guess you took lessons from him.”_ _

__“Oh hell-“ David muttered under his breath, looking down at his shoes as he rubbed his jaw. Instead of starting an argument, Mr. Baxter just laughed and laughed, even slapping his knee a little. No one thought it odd, amongst the crowd. It was a wedding celebration. Many were laughing._ _

__“Oho!” Mr. Baxter chuckled happily, “Get back in the knife box, Mr. Sharp…” he looked Jimmy up and down, noting the handsome curve of his jaw and the way his golden hair fell into his eyes. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you, you little cake=eater. You sure you’re a man? Or are you a woman, eh-?”_ _

__Jimmy took in a sharp breath, eyes flying wide till Thomas reached behind him out of sight of the Baxter’s to clench onto Jimmy’s jacket. Jimmy kept his mouth shut, but his lips were pursed into a tight thin white line. Any second now he would explode._ _

__“Sam.” Mrs. Baxter rubbed her husband’s shoulders lovingly, “Let’s not make a nuisance of ourselves-“ But the nuisance had already been made and everyone was incredibly uncomfortable. Moseley looked ready for another drink, which given his history probably wasn’t a good idea._ _

__“Imma tell your daddy I saw you.” Mr. Baxter declared, and Thomas couldn’t tell whether or not the statement was supposed to be a threat. “See what he says, huh?”_ _

__“Papa-“ Phyllis began, but Mr. Baxter cut her off._ _

__“No, no, it’s fine little girl-“ Mr. Baxter took his daughter’s hand and squeezed it lovingly. It stung Thomas to see the tears in Phyllis’ brown eyes, “Don’t worry your pretty head.”_ _

__He rose from his chair, a wobbling dance that was held upright by both Mrs. Baxter and David. When he was finally on his feet, he towered over Thomas; he was probably the same height as Thomas’ father, over six feet. Mr. Baxter rubbed his hooked nose with the back of his hand, which was slightly reddened from the intake of alcohol. He leaned in and gently kissed Phyllis upon the cheek- a sweet and kindly thing for such a dangerous man to do._ _

__“This is your day. Don’t let anyone steal your thunder” He urged gently, and it would have been a loving thing to say if he hadn’t added, “Specially these little cake-eaters.” And with that he pinched her cheek sweetly._ _

__David was close to snapping, “Why don’t you talk a walk.” he ground out._ _

__“I might just, Davy.” Mr. Baxter smiled easily at his son, “I might just.”_ _

__Phyllis looked down at her white shoes, utterly embarrassed by the turn of events. Thomas somehow felt he’d caused it all, despite not being the one to initiate the argument. Jimmy was jittering now, looking close to starting an argument just for the sake of chewing his own bone. Thomas kept his hand resolutely on the cuff of Jimmy’s jacket behind his back, determined not to let the tension escalate._ _

__Mr. Baxter patted Phyllis fondly upon the cheek, then without another word he left through the back. Mrs. Baxter followed him, utterly embarrassed with cheeks flushed and lips pursed. Where they went, Thomas could not say- probably just outside so that Mr. Baxter could indulge in a smoke. Either way he would not be following and would not be fighting; he would keep his promise to Phyllis._ _

__Phyllis was close to tears, resolutely not touching her eyes lest her makeup smudge. Moseley simply took her by the arm, her ever silent guardian (despite being a jittering wreck). David rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed like his mother._ _

__“I’m sorry, Phyllis.” David muttered, “You look beautiful.”_ _

__“Thank you David.” Phyllis’ voice was strained._ _

__“Sorry Joseph,” David added, continuing to rub the back of his neck, “But maybe it’s better if you see what they’re like.”_ _

__Moseley just gave another bumbling laugh._ _

__

__The party dwindled down about an hour later, with most servants needing to leave for their appropriate houses and Moseley’s school chums having to head home for supper. Margret and David were bound back for the seven o’clock train to Stockport taking both Mr. and Mrs. Baxter with them. In an effort to keep the peace, they walked in two separate groups with Mr. and Mrs. Baxter taking the lead with Phyllis and Moseley while David and Margret walked several paces behind accompanied by Thomas and Jimmy. Margret held Danny in her arms, eager to get a few last moments of affection in before they would be parted again._ _

__Dusk was settling, and overhead a flock of Goldcrest crossed the skies in the last peaks of light on their way to their winter nesting grounds. A nipping chill dusked the air and Thomas drew his coat a little tighter to his throat. Though Thomas could not see it, Jimmy did the same. It was odd, despite the whole of them walking together, Thomas and David had somehow taken the forefront with Margret and Jimmy hanging back. Thomas supposed it had something to do with the fact that Thomas and David with both taller than Margret and Jimmy. Longer legs meant longer strides. Now there was a good sized gap between them, so that two totally different conversations could carry on without fear of overlapping._ _

__“I’m sorry about earlier today.” David admitted, taking a great hearty sniff of cool air._ _

__“Don’t be.” Thomas assured him, for in truth Mr. Baxter had been relatively tame, “I’m used to it.”_ _

__“I can’t stop him from being the way he is.” David added, “I hope you know that.”_ _

__“I do.” Thomas said, for in truth Mr. Baxter was much in the same to his own father, “I’m the same way with mine.”_ _

__“Odd how our fathers are so close and similar.” David said, his tone bordering on displeased. Thomas took absolutely no offense to it, finding himself as foreign to his father as to Albania._ _

__“Your father’s harmless.” Thomas assured David, for despite being a notorious drunk, he was hardly a child beater or a violent man, “Mine’s the devil. You’re lucky.”_ _

__“I dunno.” David chortled, but he still smiled, “There are times when I wonder.” to which he added quickly, “Listen, Thomas, I wanted to talk to you about the future.”_ _

__Thomas shot him a look, “That sounds ominous.”_ _

__“Do you like being here?” David asked, curious, “At Downton? Doing what you do? Or do you want to change?”_ _

__Oh, if only David knew._ _

__Did he like being at Downton, under butler to the Crawley’s and their enormous estate?_ _

__Absolutely not._ _

__In his youth, Thomas had yearned to pull away from service. If only he could be in business like his father, his own boss and in charge of his destiny. He’d have even taken a stab at a medical career if Dr. Clarkson had wanted him, but after Edward Courtenay Clarkson had been of the opinion that Thomas was “suited for other things”. His attempt at the black market had been an atrocious decision, and besides that Thomas didn’t really have a history outside of servitude. It burned him, bitterly, to know he was so trapped in a system he despised. Had he been ill, or unsure of his way, he could see Downton as a good plan B. He knew the estate, and the people. He had good relationships with most there (his courtship with Daisy earning him an odd respect), and could see Downton as a home of sorts to the wayward and the weary. But Thomas wasn't weary, and he wasn’t ill. He was happy, and knew what he wanted. He wanted out and up. He wanted a life alone with Jimmy, free from the toil of servitude and the walls it put between them at night._ _

__“I know Jimmy would.” Thomas said, decidedly not letting David in on just how miserable he was, “He’s tired of living this way.”_ _

__“We’re moving to London.” David explained, and Thomas looked around with a start. Margret and David, moving to London? Did his father know, or the Baxters? He couldn’t see either being terribly happy with the newfound distance given that Stockport was a family based community. Then again, six hours distance between a child and his abuser was perfect. But what on earth would David do?_ _

__“I’m going to open my own business.” David explained, and his tone took sudden guilty turn, “Your father wants me to start a clock shop. He’s been begging me, actually.” David paused, mystified by his own circumstances, “It’s a little strange.”_ _

__Thomas pursed his lips, trying to keep his tone mild when he was really flooded with an ugly jealousy, “I see.”_ _

__That clock shop ought to by rights be his. He’d been raised for it, destined for it really… and had an affinity with clocks that not even a traumatized childhood could put asunder. David was a farmer’s son, born and bred in the field, but that was a piss poor reason to want a man out of a job. David could take over the shop and probably run it well… but that didn’t mean Thomas wasn’t jealous._ _

__“I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings.” David said. Thomas gave him a short sharp smile._ _

__“Don’t be a fool, David.” Thomas joked, “I don’t have feelings.”_ _

__David kept the silence for a moment, weighing his words carefully as they continued to walk down the village path. They were growing close to the train station, so that Thomas could hear the whistle of one train taking off leaving room for another to dock._ _

__“Thomas,” David suddenly spoke in a rush, “Come with me to London. Be my partner in business. You were always better with numbers, and I’ll need your insight. You’re the real heir to the clock business, not me. It wouldn’t feel right for me to just take it-“_ _

__But this offer was far too generous for Thomas to accept. While he’d love to leave for London with David, there was no stability in the situation. Thomas’ father could turn on a moment’s notice and kick him out, despite David’s obvious good will. As the original owner of the clock shop, should it be under his father’s branch, Thomas would have to go by his father’s rules… and that was something that he could not allow. Not when it put Jimmy in so much danger._ _

__“David, you’re the son my father never could have.” Thomas cut him off with a wave of the hand, “Straight laced, forward, normal, and you love my sister. I want you to have it.”_ _

__“No-“_ _

__“David-“ They were three pins away from arguing._ _

__“I swore to your mother on her death bed that if this time ever came, I’d make an opportunity for us both.” David snapped, and his eyes had taken on a keen blazing look. Thomas listened intently, the memory of his mother suddenly thick in his mind. Of hiding underneath her cage crinoline one cold October night. “The night she died, she begged me to protect you along with Margret, and I will uphold that oath.”_ _

__It made Thomas smile, to think of David so very determined to do the right thing and be a good man. In a town like Stockport where it seemed that goodness could not prevail, David Baxter had somehow come along and set the bar higher. Thomas was glad that despite not being there himself, his mother had had David to lean on in her final moments._ _

__“Quite the orator.” Thomas attempted to keep his cheek in line, “You ever consider running for parliament?”_ _

__“Couldn’t stand the dress code to be honest.” David muttered under his breath, “Think about it Thomas, Please?”_ _

__“I will.” Thomas said, and he meant it too._ _

__“I’m serious,” David added, as if Thomas somehow had thought it all a joke, “Come with me, start again. Bring Jimmy too, we’ll find work for him.”_ _

__Little did David know Jimmy already had work lined up at the drop of the hat. But there were more barriers to get around, “David, I have to put in a notice and speak with my employer-“_ _

__“Oh I know.” David agreed, “And I have to buy the shop and get settled in meself. It can’t happen tomorrow. I’m just saying… think about it.” David urged. “And ring to let me know.”_ _

__Thomas rubbed his jaw, glancing over his shoulder at Jimmy, Danny, and Margret. Danny was between them, swinging on their hands delightedly. Jimmy could carry him higher than Margret, so that Danny went up at a slight angle with his left foot flying higher than his right. His giggling was infectious. Flush faced from the exertion but grinning, Jimmy sucked on his bottom lip in concentration and swung Danny up high again. Margret was almost knocked off her feet, clutching at her pink cloche with her free hand. Thomas took in the rosy flush of Jimmy’s cheeks- the way his eyes sparkled in the dying light._ _

__“Let me talk to Jimmy.” Thomas said to David at long last._ _

__“Fair enough.” David agreed, and he stuck out his hand for Thomas to shake. It was a sign between the two men, an unspoken contract of fairness and honor that neither could put asunder… for the memory of Alice Barrow if nothing else._ _

__

__~*~_ _

__That night, as Jimmy and Danny lay asleep in bed, Thomas lay beside them both wide awake._ _

__It had been difficult to get Danny to go down. A combination of cake and Margret’s departure had left him a sniveling wreck, and despite being in a good mood for most of the afternoon by nightfall he was horribly morose and back to sucking on his thumb. The family had eaten at the Dowager’s house that night to spare the downstairs who were now officially lacking Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, Phyllis, and Moseley. With a reprieved work load, Thomas and Jimmy could give the appropriate attention to Danny who after returning to the abbey had sat quietly at the servant’s hall table until- out of no where- he’d burst into tears and been whisked off to an early bed. Thomas had petted and soothed him, tutted in his ear and promised how he’d be back with his family soon till he’d been soothed. After the who debacle, Danny needed some a powder for a headache and Nan. Thomas fetched him both, and soon Danny was out cold with Jimmy and Thomas on either side to make him a comfortable sandwich. By morning, the tears would be dried upon his cherub face._ _

__David’s proposition was incredibly tempting, save that it was also incredibly dangerous. David explained that Thomas’ father had wanted David to open a clock shop, and apparently in London… but how involved would Thomas’ father be with the running of the shop? If he left it in David’s hands, Thomas stood a fair chance at being able to work there and not lose his remaining pinky. If his father wanted a personal hand in running the business…? Thomas and Jimmy wouldn’t stand a chance. David’s generosity was not shared by Thomas’ father._ _

__Unable to sleep and unwilling to risk waking Danny up, Thomas rose as slowly and softly as possible from bed to pull back on his trousers and shoes. He took a moment to simply watch Jimmy sleep, his head cushioned by the pillow and golden hair flying up all around him. One hand was underneath his pillow, supporting his head, the other was around Danny holding him close. Danny had fallen asleep with his thumb in his mouth and Nan by his head so that the poor rabbit was now covered in drool. Shaking his head, amused, Thomas left the room careful to close the door without a sound. Heading downstairs, his suspenders swinging about his knees, Thomas made his way to the darkened kitchens which were completely abandoned in the late night hour. It was past midnight, not a soul to be found on deck, and so Thomas had absolutely no qualms in searching the refrigerator for a slice of Phyllis’ remaining wedding cake. Piece in hand with fork at the ready, Thomas made his way back to the servant’s hall, thinking that he might sit in the arm chair and eat it while comforting himself in the dark…. but he stopped dead at the sight of Jimmy sitting atop the servant’s table, feet dangling over the edge and grinning from ear to ear. He had on a threadbare blue housecoat, tied loosely as the waist so that a sliver of his white undershirt could be seen beneath._ _

__Cake in hand, Thomas grinned._ _

__“Y’caught me.” He said. Jimmy smiled, shifting his legs so that one was crossed atop the other._ _

__“Share and I won’t tell.” Jimmy said. Fair play, indeed. Thomas gladly accepted the terms as he sat the cake down next to Jimmy’s thigh and took the chair in front of him._ _

__For a moment there was only silence as Jimmy and Thomas shared the chocolate wedding cake. Thomas took a bite, only to offer the fork to Jimmy who’d likewise get a piece. Back and forth they went till the cake was almost demolished between them. Only then, lips dabbled by frosting, did Jimmy speak up sucking on the fork as he went._ _

__“What a bastard. “Jimmy muttered around their fork. He passed it back to Thomas who took another bite._ _

__“I know.” Back went the fork._ _

__“Cake-eater.” Jimmy sneered, for clearly it was a self-fulfilling prophecy with a piece of cake nearly gone between them, “What the hell does that even mean?”_ _

__“Means you’re a trolluping mincing lavender man whore.” Thomas joked, delighting in the way Jimmy’s jaw dropped sarcastically, “In his eyes.”_ _

__“Well.” Jimmy scoffed lightly, twiddling the fork between his lovely fingers, “What a bastard.”_ _

__Thomas leaned back in his chair, lighting scratching at his temple, “He’ll get his.” Thomas said, for surely Mr. Baxter’s liver was close to croaking, “Alcohol poisoning probably.”_ _

__“But what if he talks to your father?” Jimmy asked, and Thomas noted that Jimmy had grown still in his tension. His feet no longer jiggled, his fingers no longer twirled the fork. Instead he looked at Thomas with such intensity that Thomas had to take him serious._ _

__“He probably will.” Thomas admitted, “They’re best mates.”_ _

__“What if your father starts trouble with us again?” Jimmy’s eyes narrowed as he looked from one end of the vacant table to the other in deep thought._ _

__“Well.” Thomas tried to lighten the mood as he took back the fork, “I have another pinky.”_ _

__“Don’t joke about that.” Jimmy’s voice, so sensitive and soft, gave Thomas pause. He glanced up at Jimmy, finding his gaze fretful, and immediately regretted making a pun at the expense of his fingers. That experience had traumatized Jimmy as much as it had him. Every time the pair of them passed the chopping block out back, it gave them pause._ _

__Thomas reached out and gently squeezed Jimmy’s knee in a comforting gesture. Jimmy smiled, but it was a tense tiny thing and it did not last as he continued to ponder. Thomas ate a small bite of cake, careful to watch Jimmy’s expression. Jimmy licked his lips, tilting his head from one direction to the other as he caught Thomas’ gaze._ _

__“Thomas-“ Jimmy murmured._ _

__“Mmm?”_ _

__“I wanna move back to London.” Jimmy whispered, and his voice was so sweet, so demure, that Thomas had to set down his fork if only to give Jimmy full and undivided attention. They clasped hands, the pair of them falling into a momentary quiet once again as Thomas considered David’s offer from earlier that afternoon and Jimmy thought of Jack Ross’ phone call._ _

__“I’m tired of living this life.” Jimmy whispered, and Thomas couldn’t agree more, “This isn’t living. Look at us, in that shitty bed upstairs, in this cramped room below, none of it’s ours. This life isn’t for us.”_ _

__Jimmy had a damn point. For people like John and Anna, it was easy- work in a castle by day and live in a cottage by night. But for Thomas and Jimmy, it was absolute hell. No privacy, no pleasure, no real change in day to day save for who was coming to dinner and what would Branson be wearing. Was this really the epitome of all there was? The end all be all of the universe? Neither Thomas nor Jimmy thought so._ _

__“Alright. Cards on the table.” Thomas squeezed Jimmy’s hands, noting with mischief how Jimmy’s eyes sparked with hope, “David was talkin’ to me tonight about opening a clock shop in London.” Jimmy hitched the tiniest breath, “If it’s safe for us, I’m thinkin’ about accepting his offer. Putting in our notices and heading out… but we have to wait till David’s ready to open up shop and even then, I have to make sure my father won’t be involved-“_ _

__“What if we played it differently.” Jimmy urged, his voice growing quite eager as he leaned in close, “What if we said that we’d first try with Jack and if it didn’t work we’d fall back on the clock shop. Sound better? That way we could leave right now.”_ _

__Typical Jimmy, always ready to go-go-go… but Thomas was far from certain. He rubbed his jaw, thinking of how Jack had been more than ready to take them on but wanting them for a performance at the Criterion. Dear god, what a bill to fill. Could Thomas do it…? He was unsure, and hesitant to lean for optimism._ _

__“Makes David sound like a last resort,” Thomas declined to mention his cowardice, “I don’t want to be ungrateful-“_ _

__“S’not ungrateful.” Jimmy assured him gently, reaching out to cup Thomas’ face in hand. Thomas sighed, leaning tenderly into the soothing touch, “You take care of yourself first, Thomas Barrow.” He bopped Thomas’ nose with the tip of his finger, “Always thinkin’ of others-“_ _

__“Hardly.” Thomas sneered; if Jimmy was under the impression he was self-sacrificing for the common man he was in for a rude awakening._ _

__To this, Jimmy offered Thomas a fork full of wedding cake. Thomas ate it slowly, grinning as Jimmy retracted the fork from his mouth, licked clean of frosting and such._ _

__“Such a sour mouth.” Jimmy murmured, reaching out to touch Thomas’ carved lips. He spread the tiniest drop of icing there till it coated his thumb, them drew back to suck the digit into his own mouth. “Gotta make it sweeter.”_ _

__Eager, Thomas leaned up from his chair and kissed him Jimmy sweetly upon the mouth. Tongues collided, the traces of icing sweetening their already saccharine kiss as Jimmy dropped the fork with a clatter to take Thomas’ into his arms. When they drew back for air, both were grinning and tasting cake._ _

__“So we’ll leave, yes?” Jimmy urged softly._ _

__“Maybe.” Thomas agreed, slightly reluctant to make anything concrete without a firm plan, “But not tomorrow… I have to do this with grace or I’ll never get a reference-“_ _

__“Reference-“ Jimmy scoffed at the word, “Thomas you won’t need one!”_ _

__“Jimmy.” Thomas warned, cutting Jimmy’s rant off as he took up their fork to offer Jimmy another bite of cake. Jimmy gave him a grouchy stare which turned sultry as he opened his mouth for Thomas to spoon a bite inside. The lewd moan that followed was highly unnecessary but greatly appreciated. “My sweet love…” Thomas kissed the corner of his mouth softly, “Always gotta have a plan B.”_ _

__“David.” Jimmy reminded, swallowing his bite of cake._ _

__“Plan C-“ Thomas conceded, “It’s Thomas and Jimmy contra mundum… and we gotta look out for ourselves.”_ _

__Instead of looking grouchy, Jimmy just smiled a little, “And you’ll always look out for me?”_ _

__Thomas kissed him again at the corner of his mouth. “Always.”_ _

__The word charmed Jimmy, and he slid from the table to deposit himself right into Thomas’ lap. Suddenly the fork and cake were forgotten as Jimmy plundered Thomas’ mouth raw and grabbed at his hair with greedy hands. Oiled strands were pulled every which way as Thomas anchored himself in tight by the swell of Jimmy’s buttocks. He kneaded the flesh beneath his fingers, itching to take Jimmy tighter- deeper- Jimmy moaned into his mouth, unable to resist the shudder that ran through him as Thomas’ fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his-_ _

__The lights clicked on._ _

__Petrified, Thomas immediately threw them both from the chair to pin Jimmy underneath him on the floor. The bare coverage gave Jimmy five milliseconds to put his face right and scramble up behind Thomas with wildly trembling hands. The willing shield for Jimmy and Jimmy alone, Thomas stood in front, blocking Jimmy from the furious gazes of Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, who were clutching their coats and looking absolutely scandalized._ _

__“M-m-mr. Carson!” Thomas spluttered out, raking a hand through his disheveled hair and hurriedly wiping his mouth free of the remnants of cake. Behind him, Jimmy pressed his face into Thomas’ shoulder blades, groaning in horror. “Uh….We were…. I was… uh-“ but no excuse would come to him as Hughes thundered:_ _

__“You were taking advantage of the cat’s absence!” She looked positively furious with him._ _

__“In flagrant hedonistic delicto!” Carson was purple in the face, hands clenched as he pointed from Thomas and Jimmy to the half eaten cake._ _

__“No, no see it’s nothing like that-“ Thomas’ brained was coming up with a massive ridiculous lie even as he spoke, “See, we were- there was- there was something wrong with the cake and- and we wanted to check and make sure it was alright to eat- and Jimmy thought he tasted something wrong and-“_ _

__“Mr. Barrow-“ Mrs. Hughes cut him off with a firm fling of the hand, her scowl as heavy set as her wrinkles in that moment, _“Please do yourself a favor and hold your tongue.”__ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please remember to read and review! I hope you like this chapter!


	4. The Silver Platter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was not until much later, when the dinner plates were cleared and Jimmy was occupied with Danny in the servant’s hall that Thomas pulled out the letter again. This time, left to his own devices in the boot room, Thomas unfolded the letter with care and observed its envelope. There was no return address, not that Thomas expected there to be one honestly. Not after reading the letter itself: 
> 
> _**“I WILL FIND YOU AND GUT YOU LIKE THE FUCKING PIGS YOU ARE. NO WHERE IS SAFE. I’M COMING FOR YOU.”**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued reading! Things are going to get much darker and much wilder from here on out. I hope you continue to enjoy this story as we go far down the rabbit hole. Beware the Jabberwocky!

_All was quiet and tidy in the halls. Charles walked along checking each room as he passed. For some reason despite knowing that the ground rooms of the servant’s hall were distinctly for work, they’d now all been turned into bedrooms and were awkwardly being used by couples. Mr and Mrs. Bates were in the boot room, snug as you please and wrapped up in the corner. All very proper, nothing flagrant. Then there was Mr and Mrs. Moseley in the laundry room, their mattress new and hardly broken in but still very cozy. He even passed his own room, which for some reason was his office, where Elsie sat up on a makeshift bed tucked into the corner. She was reading a copy of Dickens, quite content._

_“Oh, check up on the kitchens?” She asked sweetly. He went to do her bedding at once._

_Into the kitchens he went, finding them quite bare and deserted with no one camping in them save for Beryl and Daisy, both of whom were braiding their hair and looking wistful._

_“You should see them in the servant’s hall!” Beryl quipped. She seemed most displeased, and Carson left for the hall at once wary of what he might find._

_He entered into the hall, and stopped dead at the horrifically vulgar scene that greeted him:_

_Barrow was seated at the table with Kent on his lap, the pair of them as naked as the day they were born and entwined around each other utterly covered in cake. They were filthy little animals, smutting about and making the most lewd of noises. Barrow had the utmost audacity to suck cake icing from Kent’s neck. Delighted, Kent made a disgusting, keening noise, tilting his head back and moaning of all things._

_“Who needs plates?” Barrow sneered, licking up more icing on Kent’s collarbone._

_“Down with plates!” Kent cried out delightedly, and damn him for it if he didn’t grab the china (which sat before them on the table like the entire staff might come to dine at any moment) and start smashing it upon the floor. “Down with aristocracy!”_

_“Down with rules!” Barrow added. “Down with the monarchy!”_

_“Down with vaginas!”-_

_“GYA-!!”_

Charles jolted awake in bed, chest heaving and sweat dripping down his neck. He found himself making an obscene stuttering sound, unable to stop for the sheer nerve that James Kent could have even in dreams! By his side, Elsie stirred fretfully, woken by his startled cry. She sat up, graying hair swinging gently in a thick braid down her neck as she reached over and turned on her bedside lamp. Their bedroom suddenly glowed in a warm auburn light combatting the darkness of the early morning hours. 

“What on earth is wrong?” Elsie murmured, reaching out to touch his gently upon the shoulder. 

“Kent…” Charles flustered, “Dripping in cake in the servants- he said vagina!” Charles croaked in horror. “Sitting naked on Barrow’s lap- the flagrant heathens! Beryl was only a room away!” 

Elsie snorted softly, reaching out and turning off her lamp again to plunge them once more into a comfortable gloom. With loving hands, she reached out and eased him back onto his pillow so that he had no choice but to close his eyes with a sigh. 

“We will handle it in the morning, Charlie.” Elsie whispered in his ear, snuggling in to spoon herself at his side. Her body kept him warm in the chilly October air. 

 

“… He actually said-“ Charles mumbled, nearly asleep again. 

“Yes, yes.” Elsie cut him off softly. “I know.” 

~*~

Charles couldn’t decide what he wanted to do first. The whole morning, through a tense breakfast and a jostled routine, he’d thought about punishment suitable for Barrow and Kent. He’d considered all the usual forms of course- prolonged work hours and menial labor- but why stop there? No, as far as he was concerned, the whipping post was still in working order out back and Kent had been asking for a smacked bottom since June! The problem, of course, was Barrow, because it didn’t matter what you put the boy through he just kept popping out like a weed at the end. Barrow had a way of making punishment look like play, which had infuriated Charles in the early years but simply irritated him now. Even if he took Kent against the whipping post, Barrow would be there in a flash and force Caine back to Earth with the blazing inferno of his fury. Charles had once seen his father thrown from the back of a wild stallion, groomsmen to a Duke who took pride in his horses. If Barrow was the stallion, Charles was the rider. Thus for the time being Kent’s bottom remained untouched yet also mercifully free of cake. 

But that did not in any way mean that Charles was placated. 

“Absolute flagrant delicto!” Charles roared at Barrow, who remained stony faced before him in his office, “Absolute! I could not be more disgusted in you if I tried! Do you have anything to say for yourself?!” 

“Mr. Carson-“ Barrow began once again, “Everyone was asleep, we were hardly doing anything in broad daylight-“ 

“That is hardly any better!” Charles shouted, “Unless I am going blind, I saw you with your hands down Kent’s backside- Like they had any business being there!” 

And just like that, Barrow looked him dead in the eye, cool as a cucumber to quip, “Maybe they did.” 

Charles temper hit a boiling point. He rose from his chair, rickety legs scraping against the stone as he bellowed from behind his desk, “Don’t you get cheeky with me! I’m five minutes from throwing you out on your backside-!” Everything about Barrow’s demeanor insulted him in that moment- his disgusting smirk- his icy eyes devoid of warmth and his ivory skin. Like there was no blood in in his veins. 

In that moment, Charles wondered if there was actually something physically different with Barrow- if blood flowed normally through him or if a doctor might cut him open and find everything all mixed about. It made him shudder with nausea. 

“Mr. Carson, I-“ 

“I don’t want to hear it.” Charles snarled, sinking wearily back down onto his chair. 

“Then what do you want me to say?!” Barrow shouted, his own temper beginning to peak. 

If it was a shouting match he wanted, he’d get one alright! Charles was back on his feet in an instant to snarl, “That you’re sorry!” 

“Well I’m not!” Barrow roared, positively furious with balled fists trembling from head to toe, “And what’s more given the opportunity I will do it again! So put that in your pipe and smoke it!” 

Charles saw red, imagining all the punishments he could put Barrow through. Was whipping really such an obscene suggestion? Charles didn’t think so- a right smack was exactly what Barrow needed to get his behavior in check. A few licks of the belt and he’d think twice before ever giving Charles cheek again! 

“The only thing I’ll be smoking is your reference letter!” Charles sneered in icy warning. 

“Oh as if you were ever going to give me one!” Barrow was off and running, ranting as he paced back and forth, “You were going to throw me in a ditch from the start-!” 

But this was absolutely ridiculous. Charles had been placing a great deal of trust in Barrow lately. Had he forgotten? “I’ll have you know that I was beginning to put a great deal of faith in you-“ 

“Well then I guess I’ve failed you!” Barrow threw his hands up in the air like a mock suggestion of surrender, “Again!” but then he blustered, “You know what, no!” Barrow turned on a his heel, icy blue eyes blazing, “I’d hoped better of _you!”_

“Oh?!” Charles sneered, “Have I failed you in some way!?” 

“Look at the others marrying and happy!” Barrow cried out, growing emotional with bright spots of color upon his cheeks, “Look at you, not even a month wed, and look at me!” He gestured to the pair of them, “Maybe I want a chance at happiness! Maybe I wanted some romance of my own! Is that so despicable?!” 

“You had your chance!” Charles roared, thinking of Daisy, now a quiet drab little thing when before she’d been so bright and lovely, “And you ruined it for everyone, including a young woman who never did a days harm in her life! I warned you from the very start what frolicking with Kent would cost you but you refused to listen! Now you’re reaping the pains! So don’t get huffy with me when you’re the creator of your own demise! By now you could be happily married and free to be as loving as you chose but instead you strayed from the right path like the wayward sheep you are! Bleat all you like, but as far as I’m concerned, you have no one but yourself to blame.” 

The look of abject horror upon Barrow’s face made the tiniest seed of remorse and guilt twist inside of Charles. In an attempt not to cave, he pushed forward angrily: “You know your actions are disgusting even if you don’t want to admit it! The only thing that’s left to be done is for me to punish both of you appropriately!” 

In an emotional outburst reminiscent of a toddler’s shriek, Barrow lost all control, “Then go bloody wild and whip me why don't you?!” Barrow screamed at the top of his voice, shocking Charles with his volume, “Whip me for everything you hate about me-!” 

Charles gaped, unsure of where even to begin with his displeasure for Barrow in that moment. Mercifully he was saved from putting his disgust into words by the appearance of Elsie, who hammered upon his office door to jerk it open with a steely glare. Charles was given a half second to notice several faces on the other side of the door, including Beryl, Phyllis Moseley, and Anna Bates, all three of whom looked absolutely horrified at the conversation occurring therein. Elsie shut the door on them, barring the way out with such angelic force that even Barrow had to reckon with her. 

“All this shouting-“ She scorned him, much like a mother would her wayward child, “Everyone can hear you, you do realize that?” 

“I don't care!” Barrow howled, belligerent. Elsie did a double take, alarmed at the volume of his voice, “I hope everyone in the world hears me!” 

“Thomas Barrow you will lower your voice this instant!” Elsie warned, finger up and demanding. But Barrow was inconsolable. 

“No!” He howled, “I won't! That's all he's ever done is shout at me and make me feel small; well I'm sick of it! I won't take it anymore! I won't listen to his bullshit, just because he wants me gone-!” 

She tried to stop him, to shush him, reaching up to even put a hand over his mouth. Barrow just jerked back- “No!” 

“Thomas, hush-“ 

“I won't!” 

“Thomas, listen to me!” 

“You wish I was gone too-!” 

Elsie had lost her patience. With a firm hand, she smacked Barrow upon the cheek. It was hardly a violent snap, nothing that might bruise or bleed like the blow poor little Daniel Baxter must have faced, but it horrified Barrow who had never known any violence from Elsie in his life. He gaped at her, clutching his no doubt stinging cheek to stare at her like she was a stranger. Elsie pursed her lips, disappointed as she raised her finger back up in warning. 

“Enough.” Elsie warned calmly, their voices mercifully reduced to a civil volume, “That’s quite enough. Gain some self control.” 

Barrow seemed to come back to himself. He wobbled on unsteady legs. 

“No one wants you gone.” Elsie consoled him gently, “You’re being hysterical. Sit down.” And just like that she pulled out Charles’ visitor chair to help Barrow into it. He plunked down, shaking, still clutching his cheek with a look of absolute hurt in his eyes. Elsie kept a hand upon his shoulder, calming both men as she acted as newfound referee to their boxing match. 

For a moment there was only a tense quiet as Barrow regained his sense of self. He refused to look Elsie or Charles in the eye, no doubt feeling small and foolish with no ability to control his emotions like a responsible adult. 

Charles retook his seat slowly, raising a bushy eyebrow expectantly as Elsie ran a hand absently over her beautiful braided hair to sniff delicately at the silence. 

“Now.” Elsie began. “Your actions last night were most unseemly-“ 

“There’s nothing unseemly about love-“ Barrow bleated out like a wayward sheep, but Elsie squeezed his shoulder in warning so that he feel silent. 

“You will let me finish without any more cheek, am I clear?” She warned. Barrow’s bottom lip quivered, betraying him, “Your actions last night were unseemly- even with everyone asleep and only Mr. Carson and I to view it. Such relations are to be kept in a bedroom-“ 

“And not a bedroom at the Abbey!” Charles snapped. 

“But a bedroom never the less-“ Elsie added, catching Charles’ eye in warning. “-And I highly doubt you would have stopped had Mr. Carson and I not walked in. You would have gone as far down the rabbit hole as you pleased.” 

_Let me handle him_ , she seemed to be saying. Charles did not make to argue with her. 

“What is owed, Thomas, is an apology on your part.” Elsie said, but Barrow just jerked away from her hand upon his shoulder. Very childish, indeed. 

“What should I apologize for, Mrs. Carson-“ He tried to sneer, but the hurtful emotion was evident and damning in his voice, “Being different?” 

“This has nothing to do with your differences, Thomas.” Elsie instead placed her hands on the back of Barrow’s chair, gripping the wood firmly, “This has everything to do with lewd behavior in the servant’s hall.” 

Barrow look positively betrayed, like he thought Elsie might be some kind of ally to him. 

“I suppose you thought there’d be no repercussions for your actions?” Charles sneered. “Or that Mrs. Carson might be more sympathetic to you than I?” 

At this Barrow bowed his head, hand still upon his cheek as he began to make the most obscene sniveling noises like he was three shies away from blubbering. What utter nonsense, he was a grown man behaving like a child! Elsie looked most displeased, reaching down to touch Barrow’s tense back even though he still had the nerve to jerk away from her touch. 

“Oh don’t you start that nonsense.” Charles reprimanded Barrow coldly, “Sit up straight and take it like a man-“ 

“Charlie.” Elsie warned again. Charles caught her eye and found her issuing silent warning. Wondering what her plan was, Charles fell silent again. Elsie patted Barrow upon the back until he no longer jerked from her touch, fingers wrapping upon the stiff muscles of his shoulders. Charles felt the tiniest bit of remorse at the way they shook. 

Perhaps he had gone slightly too far, bringing up that ridiculous affair with Daisy Mason. Perhaps Barrow was still feeling too guilty about that ruined romance to speak on it properly without emotional distress. 

“I’m remiss to put you off with just a warning, Thomas.” Elsie admitted, but there was an undeserved gentleness in her voice as she continued to squeeze Thomas’ shoulders. “But your punishment is in Mr. Carson’s hands, not mine-“ 

“And I’m tempted to wring your neck!” Charles added for good measure. 

“Charlie-“ Elsie snapped. Charles pursed his lips, cursing the slip of tongue when Elsie clearly wanted to be the one to punish Barrow. 

For a long moment there was only silence as Elsie and Charles stared at one another from across his desk. Her honey brown eyes flitted down to Barrow’s shaking shoulders, then back up to him. He could read her expressions well now, could open his heart to hers, and knew she wanted him to show mercy. Knew that he could not fire Barrow and Kent despite how much he wanted to in that moment. 

That in no way meant he wanted to be lenient… but he knew that firing would have to wait for another day, another offense. For now, Elsie’s kindness saved Barrow’s undeserving hide once again- 

_“Run da-“_   
_Blood flying up, flying everywhere, covered the hatchet that nearly caught Charles’ face-_   
_Barrow- Thomas- leaping in between Charles and danger’s path, without hesitation, without regret._

Charles sighed, regarding Thomas before him. 

He’d been too hard. He knew that now. 

“Sit up straight.” Charles grumbled. “I won’t address the top of your head.” 

Elsie beckoned Thomas with he grip, and with greatest reluctance Thomas sat back up. His face was red, his eyes watering though no tears and fallen as of yet. He looked absolutely humiliated, degraded, and Charles winced at the realization he was once again a part of it. 

_“Whip me for everything you hate about me!”_ Barrow had screamed, telling Elsie, _“All he’s ever done is shout at me and make me feel small!”_

When had leading become about punishing where Thomas Barrow was concerned? Charles pursed his lips, glancing at Elsie who was still waiting for his final say. Thomas refused to meet his eyes, utterly ashamed, instead looking at his lap. 

“I want an apology.” Charles grumbled, “For your disgusting behavior when you should have been the leading example in my absence.” 

Elsie squeezed Thomas’ shoulder. 

“… I’m waiting.” Charles warned after a moment of unbroken quiet. Thomas sniffed, still refusing to meet his eye. 

“I’m sorry.” Thomas finally mumbled.   
It was a terribly quiet, simple thing. For some reason, it only made Charles’ feeling of regret swell. 

“And I want an apology for your behavior here today.” Charles grumbled, tapping a thick finger upon his desk. 

A moment of silence passed, with Thomas still resolutely looking at his knees.   
“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

Charles nodded, knowing full well that issuing such apologies was as damning to Thomas’ pride as any horse whip. He looked to his desk, suddenly embarrassed though he could not say why. To cover his irritation he slowly shuffled a few of his scattered papers to stick them in his note holder. He then looked at Thomas who was still staring at his knees. 

“No half days for three months.” Charles grumbled, “For you or for Kent.” He added for good measure. “No piano playing for him, no card games for you. Nothing but work, am I clear? And if I ever catch sight of you doing something I don’t like again, it will be your undoing.” 

A beat of silence passed as Elsie registered his punishment. She didn’t seem displeased, nodding her approval as she squeezed Thomas’ shoulder to prompt him to speak. He did nothing, merely staring at his knees. 

“Do we understand one another?” Charles rumbled. Thomas sniffed. 

“Yes Mr. Carson.” Thomas finally replied. It was good enough, and Charles felt placated as he relaxed in his chair. 

“Very good.” Charles waved a hand to dismiss him, “We won’t talk any more on it today. I want you to re organize the linen closest, crystal cabinets, and cleaning stocks. When you’re finished you may start your regular inventory…. off you go, and send Kent in after you.” 

But Thomas shook his head, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “No, I won’t have you upsetting him.” Thomas mumbled. Charles’ brow began to furrow at the stupidity of it all, “Not when he’s already upset-“ 

“Thomas.” Elsie cut him off, squeezing his shoulder again. “Off to your work, and send James in after you. That is all.” 

Her tone left no room for argument. 

Stumbling to his feet, Thomas wiped bitterly at his eyes, looking absolutely shunned and embarrassed. Thomas Barrow as a creature of pride, not one easily pulled from his high horse. To see him so low ought to be punishment enough, walking away to leave Charles’ office in absolute despair with his face bowed and in his hands. The argument had been worse than Charles’ punishment, he knew that for a fact. Part of him even regretted some of his words… but he couldn’t afford to be lax with Thomas. In for a penny, out for a pound, that boy would take every single inch he was given and then some. 

He didn’t deserve to get his pinky finger hacked off, but Charles could gather how much of a pain Thomas had been to his biological father. God only knows Charles had a feeling if Thomas was _his_ son he’d have spent more time beneath his belt than away from it. 

Then again, if Thomas was _his_ son, Charles wouldn’t have even allowed him around Kent. He would have cut that obscene courtship off at the start and kept Thomas on the upward path. 

As the door closed after Barrow, Elsie cast him a disgruntled look. 

“What on earth did you say to him to make him so upset?” She whispered, un eager to be heard by those who still might be on the other side of the door. 

“I brought up Daisy.” Charles admitted. “It spiraled out of control from there.” 

Elsie huffed, shaking her head disappointedly at him. 

“Well no wonder he was upset. Really Charlie.” she whispered, “Hasn’t he suffered _enough_ on that score?” 

Charles refrained from answering lest he acknowledge the seed of guilt upon him. Instead he shuffled some more of his already-neat papers, refusing to look Elsie in the eye. 

Kent never came to his office. It did not take a genius to figure out that Barrow had never sent for him in the first place. Charles decided to let the dog lay for the moment, knowing that however he punished Kent, he would have to suffer Thomas’ wrath for it later. He’d have to remain tactful, though Kent hardly deserved his mercy. 

 

Around eleven that morning, Charles sat in his office brooding over a decanting bottle of Margaux and wondering how best to punish Kent without starting World War 2 with Thomas when a timid knock came upon his door. Looking up, Charles was slightly surprised to find Daniel Baxter on the other side, a piece of folded paper in hand and curly hair smoothed in a neat side part. His face was healing smartly, with the original ugly bruise upon his eye and temple now dulled to a soft yellow brown. He was still nervous, often clinging to Barrow’s shins like the world might fall apart should he let go, but in that moment he stood bravely before Charles with chin held high. It was rather endearing to bear witness to, and Charles relaxed in his chair as Baxter approached. 

“Mr. Carson,” Baxter said with as much dignity as a six year old could muster, “I want a job.” 

Charles blinked, slightly warmed by the request. It was endearing to see a young man so eager to work hard even at Baxter’s age- a sign that he was growing up into a fine young man. Even with Thomas Barrow for an uncle. 

“Do you have a reference?” Charles asked, now eyeing the paper in Baxter’s hand with great curiosity. 

“Yes!” He declared, and handed it over to Charles for inspection. Charles had to reach a bit in order to make up for Baxter’s lack of height, taking the reference letter from Baxter’s hand in order to see what it said. 

_To the Butler of Downton Abbey_   
_Charles Carson:_

_Here before you is a hard working, honest young man with clearest ambition and purest moral. His name is Daniel Robertson Baxter, aged 6 years old born on the 23rd of February, 1919. He is modest, polite, and well suited for a serving environment around the stately upper class. He has experience helping with inventory needs as my personal assistant but cannot write yet- he also is well known for his ability to sooth disgruntled cooks with well placed sweetness and compliments. Baxter’s greatest skill, however, comes in his ability to draw. He can draw rabbits, brides, houses, trees, and even the dresses Lady Mary wears. I urge you to employ him. I give you my seal of testimony upon his character._

_Thomas Nathaniel Barrow_  
 _Under Butler of Downton Abbey_

Charles refrained from rolling his eyes with great difficulty, finding the insane flourish of Barrow’s signature to be just a bit too liberal for his liking. 

Baxter was waiting with a hopeful smile. He’d even refrained from bringing his stuffed rabbit and was standing straight with his hands at his side. A little gentleman in the making; Charles could not help but smile as he looked over his desk. 

"I got my Uncle Tommy to write me the letter." Baxter explained, his voice high and youthful, "He was very sad so I cheered him up and drew him a picture but I want something to do. He said to ask you for a job. He's taking a break now. Mrs. Carson said he could." 

Yes, Charles supposed after the insanity of the morning Thomas could take a small break if Elsie permitted it. She knew best. 

“These are fine attributes.” Charles commended him, “And I see your under butler has signed it with a very…. flourishing… signature.” Charles paused, considering all the odd jobs there were to do about a house like Downton. To be fair, after the recent staffing cuts they were all feeling the bite of the bullet, but Baxter was six. Far too young to be working with the hatchet to chop wood or fetching and carrying for his Lordship. He needed a job that could keep him below stairs but likewise away from harm. The kitchen was far too dangerous- perhaps something to do with the boot room? 

“I’m afraid there are no jobs open.” Charles admitted, not unkindly. Baxter’s smile began to droop, “What would you care to do, Mr. Baxter?” 

Baxter thought about it for a moment, pursing his lips in intense thought to finally say, “I want to hand out the mail, on a silver tray.” 

“Ah-!” Charles rather liked the sound of this, save for the fact that the silver of Downton was a shining collection and not to be sullied by the sticky fingers of a six year old. 

Then again… Baxter’s reference had mentioned that he was ‘well suited for a serving environment’. Perhaps he could learn to carry silver with the respect it deserved. 

“But a silver tray would mean you’d have to wear white gloves.” He warned. Baxter just smiled even wider. 

“I’d like that!” Baxter declared. Charles refrained from smiling with greatest difficulty. “And I could comb my hair and wear a livery too? So that I look smart?” 

Now Charles couldn’t stop himself. He smiled, lacing his fingers together as he regarded Baxter’s petite height. They’d hardly have a livery small enough for him- he’d be swallowed up by the fabric. 

“I don’t know if we have a livery quite your size.” Charles chuckled. But Baxter wasn’t put off for even an instant. 

“Maybe someone could make one for me?” Baxter offered. Charles quirked a bushy eyebrow, thinking of Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Moseley, of whom excelled in sewing. It would have 

“… We’ll see what we can do.” Charles declared. And just like that, all thoughts of punishing Kent with extra vigor vanished from his mind. 

~*~

There were fewer things that got Jimmy madder than Thomas in distress. 

Word had drifted through the grape vine of a wild argument between Thomas and Carson that morning, something which apparently had warranted Mrs. Hughes’ intervention (Jimmy couldn’t call her Mrs. Carson, it was just too weird). Jimmy had been upstairs dressing Branson at the time, but by the time he’d returned downstairs Thomas was sulking in the linen closet and Jimmy was apparently _banned_ from the piano for three months. Little did Carson know that Jimmy and Thomas were planning on skipping town in less time than that- he could go suck on an egg for all Jimmy cared! 

It was supper time and Thomas sat morose at the table with a book before him. Jimmy sat beside him, drumming his fingers on the table and itching for the ivory keys. To make up for the music he could not play, he instead hummed a tune under his breath. 

“Where’s Danny?” Jimmy asked softly. 

“Phyllis wanted him.” Thomas replied, sounding rather hoarse. Jimmy’s temper only increased when he noticed how inflamed Thomas’ eyes were. 

“You okay?” Jimmy muttered under his breath, eager not to be overheard by the cluster of servants that were slowly drifting into the servant’s hall. 

“No.” Was Thomas’ only reply. 

Jimmy pursed his lips, letting out a long breath through flared nostrils as he contemplated how best to get them out of this ruddy hall. The first thing to do was convince Thomas he could sing, and then call Jack for an audition. Yet Thomas was in such a horrific mood after his fight with Carson that Jimmy doubted he could convince him to take a smoke, much less spout a tune. Jimmy slipped his hand beneath the table, and as discreetly as he could clutched onto Thomas’ thigh. He soothed the tense muscle with his fingers, and after a moment Thomas slipped his own hand beneath the table to lace their fingers. 

“We’re gonna be out of here real soon.” Jimmy whispered softly. 

“So long as I literally sing for my supper.” Thomas did not look happy with the idea. 

“When you’ve had enough, you’ll know.” Jimmy caught Thomas’ eye, but before Thomas could reply with an affirmative or negative, the sudden arrival of Carson forced everyone to their feet. Thomas and Jimmy had to let go of each other’s hands lest everyone see. Carson surveyed the entire hall, from Andy and Moseley at the far end chatting over cards to Bates and Anna across the table from Thomas and Jimmy, stopped mid-conversation about prospective baby names. Mrs. Hughes entered, taking her place on Thomas’ other side, leaving the only unfilled place of one Phyllis Baxter though god knows where she’d gotten off to. Maybe Danny was causing mischief and she was having to clean it up. By this point Jimmy was ready to set Mr. Carson’s office on fire, and glared dully at the man as he took his seat. Carson glanced at Thomas and Jimmy, saying nothing but raising an eyebrow at Jimmy’s cold expression. Bitter, Thomas took up his nearly finished cup of tea to sip on it calmly. Through it all, rise and fall of the cup, Jimmy never stopped glaring at Carson. All attention was diverted off of Jimmy, however, by the sound of heels upon the floor and Carson turning to pronounce: “Ah, the mail.” 

Such a phrase did not sum up the gravity of the situation. 

Jimmy didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly Danny walked around the corner in a tiny livery complete with tails, white gloves, and a bowtie. He even had his hair slicked and parted, though because of his curl it stuck up at an odd angle on the side. God help him if he didn’t bear a silver tray like it was a trophy, with a little stack of mail on top all sorted and organized. He was beaming, cheeky, and Baxter walked in behind him to put both her hands on his shoulders in a guiding sort of way. 

The entire room burst out into a round of ridiculous fawning noises, mostly from Anna and the two maids that were staying for dinner. Mrs. Hughes put her hand over her heart, chuffed as Danny bore up his silver tray to say “Mail!” In a happy voice. 

Thomas choked on his tea, nearly spitting it out at the table. 

“Oh look at how sweet he is!” One of the maids crooned as Danny held up his tray for Bates to take a letter from. Bates accepted it, grinning as Danny continued on down the table to Andy who accepted a letter, and then to Moseley. 

“Thats- actually really adorable-“ Andy spluttered as he fumbled with his letter. 

“You look right smart, Danny!” Moseley praised as Danny offered him up the tray. 

“A letter for your, Uncle Joseph.” Danny said, earning him another round of ‘awws’ from the soppy maid duet. 

“Wh-who did this?!” Thomas finally managed to get out between coughs, “Who put him in that livery-“ 

“I did.” Baxter declared as she walked behind Danny making sure he didn’t drop the tray, “I made it for him-“ 

“And he looks right smart.” Mrs. Hughes praised sweetly. Carson beamed next to her. 

“No. No-!” Thomas waved his hand, and the table seemed to be shocked by how angry Thomas sounded. He was still coughing a little, flushed in the face as he glared at Baxter. “He can’t- this isn’t something that should be glorified.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with a life in service, Mr. Barrow.” Mrs. Hughes said, which only made Thomas flush more in anger. 

“Well forgive me if I want more for my nephew-“ Thomas snapped. Danny approached, looking slightly reproachful as he offered up the final letter upon the silver tray which bore Thomas’ name. Thomas sighed, looking Danny over as he finally plucked up the letter. 

“Letter, Uncle Tommy…” Danny said softly, his big blue eyes overflowing with obvious affection. 

Baxter reached into her pocket to pull out a pair of handkerchiefs, and used them like mitten to take the silver tray from Danny. It was only then that Jimmy could see Danny’s gloves were actually made for a little girl, covered in lace. Baxter left, no doubt returning the tray to the silver pantry as everyone opened their evening post and Thomas hoisted Danny up onto his lap. Danny sat, legs swinging into Jimmy’s thigh as Thomas fixed his bowtie which was crooked. 

“Who fixed your tie?” Thomas asked gently. 

“Aunt Philly-“ 

“Well it’s crooked.” Thomas brushed Danny’s tousled locks, “And your hair is a mess.” 

“It’s curly.” Anna offered “It’s hard to tame.” 

But this was no excuse in Jimmy’s experience. Why, he had curly hair, and he was the image of perfection (or so Thomas swore). Danny could be just as handsome. 

“S’no excuse.” Jimmy offered Anna a small sneer, “My hair’s curly and I’m the right image of perfection.” 

Bates rolled his eyes, and unless Jimmy’s eyes deceived him he gave Thomas a look as if to suggest _‘are you kidding me?’_ but Bates was the ugliest one of them all so as far as Jimmy was concerned he could _suck an egg too_. 

Thomas propped Danny a little better upon his lap, taking his knife from his napkin and using it as an impromptu letter opener while Mrs. Hughes commended Danny on his “letter-serving abilities”. 

But then Thomas went white. 

“… Thomas?” Jimmy was suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Patmore bringing in dinner and officially started their evening meal with a flurry of cutlery and sumptuous smells. By the time Patmore had passed through with dinner, Thomas had put his letter away and looked unnervingly calm. 

“What were that about?” Jimmy asked as everyone began to serve themselves chicken and potatoes. 

Thomas gave him an absent smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It alarmed Jimmy more than any other expression he knew- like Thomas weren’t being totally honest with him for reasons Jimmy couldn’t say. 

“Nothing don’t worry. “Thomas said, ferreting chicken onto Danny’s plate. He began to cut it so that Danny could eat. 

“I’m not worried.” Jimmy mumbled, though he didn’t quite believe it himself. 

 

It was not until much later, when the dinner plates were cleared and Jimmy was occupied with Danny in the servant’s hall that Thomas pulled out the letter again. This time, left to his own devices in the boot room, Thomas unfolded the letter with care and observed its envelope. There was no return address, not that Thomas expected there to be one honestly. Not after reading the letter itself: 

_**“I WILL FIND YOU AND GUT YOU LIKE THE FUCKING PIGS YOU ARE. NO WHERE IS SAFE. I’M COMING FOR YOU.”**_

 

~*~

The next morning, Danny was back downstairs with his little silver platter and lacy white gloves. Thomas had not slept well the night before thinking constantly on the anonymous threatening letter that he’d received in the evening post. He couldn’t imagine who it might be from besides his own father, and it made his gut squirm painfully to imagine his father might have the gall to threaten him in such a way after all he’d done. 

Maybe he was just… drunk and rambling on paper. Maybe he didn’t know what else to do after hacking off Thomas’ pinky and being refused an invitation to Phyllis’ wedding. But would a vacant wedding invitation really push him that far? Thomas’ mother had had to push him tooth and nail to go out at times. Thomas could remember being a small child and hearing his mother beg and moan for his father to take her on a walk through the park- even then he’d been begrudging. Making his father go to a wedding would be like pulling out teeth. 

So why would he send such a letter… if it really was him? 

Or did this have anything to do with the wedding at all? 

Thomas thought about it constantly as he dressed the next morning and consequently ferried Danny into his tiny livery. 

Just because the letters had come after the wedding didn’t necessarily mean they had anything to do with the wedding. They could be a completely random occurrence, maybe some pig headed farmer in the local village wanted to cause trouble- that seemed more the case with Thomas and John both having gotten thrown out of the Grantham Arms last year. But then, if that was the problem then why had only he received the letter, and why now? Why not back when it occurred, and why not John too? 

Thomas couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and it made him more paranoid than usual.   
Which was a disturbing amount. 

As the servant’s sat down to breakfast and Thomas took his seat between Mrs. Hughes and Jimmy, Thomas waited impatiently for the mail to arrive. He decided that if the mail bore him no ill will he would watch it for a week and then dismiss the letter. Until then, he would keep quiet and tell no one (most of all Jimmy who would no doubt panic if he knew). Jimmy, for now, remained totally unaware of the threat Thomas had received and instead focused on shoveling as much eggs into his mouth as possible before Carson got snooty and kicked them out for extra work. Danny entered with his little silver tray, this time all by himself without Phyllis for support as he made his rounds about the table. There was less mail distribution than usual, and most of the letters were for Carson. But then Danny came about the table, beaming up at Thomas and bearing him another letter with an unmarked return address. 

Thomas pursed his lips, forcing himself to smile for Danny’s sake alone as he plucked up the letter. 

“Thank you Danny, I’ll take the tray.” Thomas tucked the letter into his pocket and despite the furious look Carson shot him took the tray without the need for white gloves. He ferried it away back to Carson’s vacant office, putting it up before quickly tearing into his letter to see what it said. Inside was a plain piece of paper attached to a clipped newspaper article. 

An icy sensation slid into his stomach for what he found inside: 

_**“I AM GOING TO KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. I HAVE ALREADY GOT RID OF SEVERAL LIKE YOU. ONE FOUND IN THE RIVE QUITE RECENTLY. LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?”**_

Unsure of what he would find, Thomas unfolded the newspaper clipping to see the marginally cramped headline: _Local Youth Found Drowned in the Thames, Family Suspects Foul Play _.__

__Thomas slowly folded the paper and article back, feeling like he might be sick to his stomach. So it seemed that he’d caught the eye of someone quite dangerous… but who? And where? And _when?_ God help him if Thomas couldn’t remember arguing with anyone in the past month… he’d been too busy keeping up with Jimmy. _ _

__He slowly returned to the servant’s hall, mulling over every bitter face he knew as he retook his place and sipped on a cooling cup of tea._ _

__Beside him, Jimmy watched his slowed gate with wary concern. “What were that letter?” Jimmy asked._ _

__“Nothing.” Thomas assured him, checking to make sure that Danny was eating enough of his bacon and eggs. He seemed far too focused on the strawberry jam Mrs. Patmore kept spreading on his toast._ _

__“Can I see it?” Jimmy asked._ _

__The thought of Jimmy knowing the truth made Thomas feel another swooping sensation of nausea again. He looked over his shoulder at Jimmy who was waiting with an expectant smile and an outstretched hand._ _

__“Jimmy, is your name Thomas Barrow?” Thomas grumbled. Jimmy cocked an eyebrow._ _

__“No-“_ _

__“Then you do not get to read Thomas Barrow’s mail.”_ _

__“Me name’s Jimmy Kent, that’s close enough.” Jimmy snorted, “Let’s see it-“_ _

__“It’s fine, Jimmy.” Thomas assured. “Now I best get on.” and with that he rose up from the table having not even touched his plate._ _

__“You haven’t even eaten!” Mrs. Hughes said in dismay. “You’ll be hungry later.”_ _

__“I’m not feeling well, I’ll wait till tea.” Thomas declared, and before anyone could question him on it he left the servant’s hall of the crystal cabinet._ _

__He would remain there for half the day, mulling over his letter._ _

__~*~_ _

__Something was seriously off with Thomas, and Jimmy was starting to grow concerned._ _

__A week had past since the Moseley wedding, and somehow without fail Thomas had received mail both morning and night every day. Jimmy’s brain was bigger than a kipper, meaning he’d caught on that the letters seemed to be from the same person given the handwriting and the fact that none ever bore a return address. Every time Thomas received a letter he got green in the face and slipped it inside his vest. He refused to let Jimmy see what lay inside, instead ferrying off to god knows where for hours before re appearing looking mildly calmer but still refusing to talk about the mail._ _

__It might have gone on like that for god knows how long, with Thomas hiding and Jimmy wondering, until one fateful afternoon when Danny delivered the evening post while Thomas was upstairs speaking with her Ladyship about household needs._ _

__Jimmy was sat at the servant’s table, working on a vest for Branson while Anna stretched out the headband on one of Lady Mary’s hats and Baxter fashioned some lace for Lady Grantham. Bates sat reading a newspaper, keeping Anna company as she continued to chirp about baby names. Jimmy could hear Andy and Moseley preparing for the tea rush in the kitchen while Mrs. Patmore barked at Andy to _“hurry it up and get on with the biscuits”_. _ _

__In came Danny with his little silver tray, but this time there was only one letter upon it. Danny looked left and right, befuddled, before coming around the table and pouting up at Jimmy._ _

__“Have you seen Uncle Tommy?” Danny asked hopefully. Jimmy glanced down to see that the letter was, once again, for Thomas. Like all its brothers before, it was without a return address, marked in harsh black ink. Jimmy smiled, taking the letter from Danny to put it in his vest pocket._ _

__“He’s upstairs. I’ll give it to him in a mo’.” Jimmy assured. Danny clambered up into a chair to set his tray upon the table, standing right up in his seat to fetch himself a biscuit along with a cup of tea and some jam. He made himself a little platter upon his tray, looking like a toff as he took off his white gloves with care in order to eat his biscuit with great munching mouthfuls._ _

__Jimmy returned his gaze to Branson’s vest, sewing once more, but as he pulled the needle back and forth the weight of the letter in his vest pocket seemed to tug at him. A nagging voice in the back of his brain urged to look in on the letter. To see what the damn funny business was about so that he could address it with Thomas at long last._ _

__Slowly setting down Branson’s coat, Jimmy pulled out Thomas’ letter to flip it back to front. Doing so, he caught the attention of both Bates and Baxter who watched him warily as he fingered the sealed edge on the back._ _

__“…Don’t.” Baxter warned._ _

__“That’s against the law, Jimmy.” Bates added._ _

__Jimmy glared at the pair of them, suddenly more incensed than before to get to the bottom of all the hubbub. Grabbing a clean knife from the serving tray on which Mrs. Patmore had laid jam tarts and biscuits, Jimmy ripped open the envelope and pulled forth its letter. It was an oddly bare thing, shocking Jimmy when he found that it only had one line upon it. It seemed an odd thing, to send a letter then only go about putting one tiny message inside-_ _

__But then Jimmy read the line, and his heart jolted in his chest:_ _

___**“I KNOW WHO YOUR MATE AND SPAWN ARE. I’LL KILL THEM BOTH AND DESTROY THE SEED OF EVIL. YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED. I AM COMING.”**_ _ _

__“Is that another letter from the homeless man?” Danny asked, curious._ _

__Jimmy slowly looked around at Danny, fear filling up his heart at the idea of a vagrant waiting at Downton’s doorstep to slit Thomas’ creamy throat the minute he got a chance. Every road in and out of Downton now bore ill will for Jimmy as he imagined murderers hiding in rags and bushes waiting to strike-!_ _

__“The… the homeless man?” Jimmy managed to stutter out, “Did you… Did you seen who wrote this, Danny?”_ _

__“No.” Danny licked the strawberry jam from his lips, untroubled in his naivety, “I thought the letters must be from someone who was homeless- cause they don’t have a return address. All proper letters have a return address.” Danny informed Jimmy loftily, now the sudden master of post and all it pertained to._ _

__“…Danny.” Jimmy swiveled Danny’s chair around so that they were suddenly face to face. Danny looked quite surprised, clutching his half-drunk teacup to his livery clad chest. “How many letters has Uncle Tommy gotten from the homeless man?”_ _

__“Lots and lots.” Danny replied, sounding slightly unsure now, “He keeps them in a drawer.”_ _

__“Show me.” Jimmy demanded, “Show me right now.”_ _

__Danny blinked, then set down his teacup and hopped out of his chair. Jimmy followed him at once._ _

__“What are you doing?” Baxter demanded, sounding slightly nervous as both Jimmy and Danny exited the hall._ _

__“Never you mind.” Jimmy snapped, eager to get on with it as Danny led the way of the stairs. The pair of them marched double time, Danny for youth and Jimmy for nerves, till suddenly they were at the top and storming their way to Thomas’ room. Jimmy opened the door for Danny, the pair of them making their way inside so that Danny could putter on stubby legs over to Thomas’ bedside cabinet. He opened the top drawer, so that Jimmy could see inside where Margret’s headshot lay alongside a pewter pocket watch and several envelopes that were stacked together._ _

__Jimmy snatched them out at once, shuffling through them to open another at random.  
And then another.   
And then another.   
And then _another_. _ _

__The more Jimmy read, the more his fear grew, till he found his legs were moving against his will as he stumbled towards the door. His ears were mute to Danny’s questions as he fled the room, vile letters smashed against his chest as he ran back down the stairs for the main door to the first floor. He burst through, nearly bowling an errant maid over as he looked left and right before making a mad dash to the far tea parlor where he hoped Lady Grantham might be holding court. Yet even as he ran across the floor, nearly tripping over a rug and crashing into the edge of a sofa, the door to the tea parlor opened and Thomas exited smoothing back his hair as he went. When he saw Jimmy running towards him, benign boredom vanished into alarm._ _

__“Jimmy, what-?” Thomas demanded, but that was about all he got out before Jimmy reached him and shook the letters in Thomas’ paled face._ _

__“How long were you going to keep this from me?!” Jimmy demanded, petrified. Thomas looked from the letters to Jimmy’s face and grew paler still, raising his hands in gentlest protest._ _

__“Wait-“ Thomas urged; Jimmy would have none of it._ _

__“No, I’m not waitin’ Thomas-!” Jimmy begged, “This isn’t somethin’ that can wait!”_ _

__Thomas looked back around at the tea parlor whose doors mercifully remained closed to pull Jimmy back towards the stairwell. As soon as they were over the threshold Thomas closed the door, sequestering them in the stone and quiet- but it didn’t stay quiet for very long._ _

__“This is a threat!” Jimmy cried out, riffling through one awful letter after another. Thomas raised his hands trying to speak but Jimmy overrode him, “This is a threat against your life! Against our lives! Against Danny’s life!” With each fear his voice grew louder. The idea that someone would want them dead horrified Jimmy, who couldn’t fathom what they’d done to ever deserve such disgusting threats. Danny, most of all, who was an innocent six year old and had never raised his voice even in a tantrum!_ _

___“No where is safe, I’ll hunt you down like the animals you are!?”_ Jimmy read a letter aloud, eyes flying from it to Thomas whose face was growing more ashen by the minute. “how long has this man been threatening you-?!” _ _

__“Jimmy-“ Thomas beseeched, but Jimmy shook his head, livid._ _

__“This is clearly some- some- violent criminal-!” Jimmy spluttered, fear quaking in his voice as he considered all the doors that an insane person might use to break into the abbey. Before today Jimmy hadn’t given half a thought to all the doors- all the windows- but holy god if there weren’t a _thousand_ of them he could think of now! And every one of them a clear and glaring threat! _ _

__“Jimmy, I didn’t want to scare you-“ Thomas cut him off, grabbing him by the cheeks to cup his face and force Jimmy to meet his eyes. They were insistent, burning, as hot as the letters Jimmy pressed to his chest, “Not until I knew more- and I still know next to nothing!”_ _

__“What do you know?”_ _

__“That this man knows about you and Danny, that he knows where we are. That he wants to kill us. That the minute he gets the chance, he will.” Thomas admitted each one with care, but they were bombs that pinged off in Jimmy’s mind, making him want to wrap himself in layers of concrete till no one could find him- till he and Thomas could be safe forever hidden in the dark._ _

__“But why?” Jimmy couldn’t fathom it, could barely draw adequate breath, “What have we even done?!”_ _

__Thomas shook his head, pursing his lips. He seemed almost bitter when he smiled again, a sad little thing that spoke volumes._ _

__That said exactly why it was that a random stranger would want them both dead._ _

__Jimmy crumpled, frightened and cold, seeking sanctuary in Thomas’ arms. He found it, but it wasn’t enough in that moment to save him from the howling fear that trapped his mind. That threatened to make him hysterical. He’d felt like this once before Branson. He’d almost been floating out of his body with fear, a hazy white noise-_ _

__No. No he could not even think about that. To go that far would be damning. Would make him hysterical again. He took deep breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, determined not to give in to the fear. It pressed in on him from all sides, making him feel dizzy as if a rag were pressed over his mouth._ _

__“It’s alright.” Thomas was saying, and Jimmy hyper focused on his voice to keep from giving in to the anxiety that threatened to undo him, “I won’t let anything happen to us. I’ll put a stop to this.”_ _

__“B-but how?” Jimmy’s brain was refusing to cooperate, refusing to partake in the giving and receiving of logic._ _

__“I’ll think of something.” Thomas murmured, and Jimmy closed his eyes a the warm sensation of Thomas kissing his clammy forehead._ _

__For the first time in Jimmy’s life, he found it difficult to believe Thomas… if only for the fear.  
~*~_ _

__Now that Jimmy knew, Thomas felt like mail time was a dreaded torture routine._ _

__Before, if Jimmy wanted a smoke he’d tug playfully on Thomas’ sleeve and get them both to step outside. Now, Jimmy absolutely refused to leave the abbey and instead smoked in Thomas’ room with both skylight windows open. He was nervous, and Thomas could understand why. Thomas was used to being threatened, to being blackmailed over this particular topic… but this was the first time in Jimmy’s life where society didn’t understand his love. Where society even _condemned_ his love. It could be a horrific wake up, in Thomas’ experience, to realize that you had no safety nets. To come to the conclusion that for better or for worse you were on your own. It was something that had turned Thomas bitter after years of strife, something that he prayed would never claim Danny as a victim. Now Jimmy was suffering its keen sting and it made Thomas _furious_. _ _

__Carson was treating Thomas like he were made of glass, constantly popping in on him amid tasks to make sure he was ‘on track’ and ‘not distracted’. For some reason he didn’t feel the same need to look in on Jimmy which was a blessing because Jimmy was incredibly distracted and wouldn’t have been able to hold up for a minute underneath Carson’s glare. Most of the time now a days Jimmy just sat chewing his thumbnail till even Danny took notice. He’d watch with curious eyes as Jimmy fidgeted and Thomas paced, wondering what on earth was going on with his usually laid-back uncles. Meanwhile he bore the silver tray that brought their heartache, and knew absolutely nothing about it._ _

__Before, it had seemed so simple: Get out of Downton and run free. Thomas’ biggest concern had come in the form of Jack Ross and whether or not he would feasibly be able to sing before an audience. Now Thomas was on the verge of arming himself, perhaps by nicking a kitchen knife and hiding it in his boot just in case. Now, even if Thomas worked up the nerve to get out of Downton, he’d still have to run for his life. What if their attacker was up close, someone who could turn in the blink of an eye from friend to foe and gut them before they had a chance to defend? What if their attacker was watching their every move, waiting in the shadows of the night to-_ _

__God, Thomas was starting to sound like Jimmy._ _

__In Thomas’ experience, it did nothing to hide from a threat. One had to face it head on, consequences be damned. By hiding in the abbey he achieved absolutely nothing, save that he brought Jimmy one day closer to a nervous breakdown. Thomas needed to stretch his legs before he went absolutely insane, particularly without piano or cards to sooth his mind. It was a risk, leaving the abbey, but Thomas had a feeling if he got out he’d stand a chance of learning more about his attacker. If nothing else he was certainly going to have a fucking talk with the post man and see if he had been handed the letters or whether they had arrived from another branch._ _

__On October 15th the day started out just like every day before it with Jimmy chewing on his thumbnail and Danny bearing them another letter of ill will at breakfast. Thomas put the letter in his vest, refusing to look at it while he helped Danny to put back up his silver tray back up. He was getting right smart with his mail bearing duties, and had even begun to sort it himself while sounding out everyone’s names. It had taken some getting used to at first, and to be fair some names will still incredibly difficult (such as Moseley and Patmore), but Danny was getting better._ _

__The day continued on to be relatively uneventful, save that they ran out of Beecham’s powders in the medicine cabinet and Mrs. Hughes discovered a need for lye in the cleaning cabinet. As it turned out, several people needed things from the village (Phyllis was in need of a packet of needles and Anna wanted an herbal tea to help with a spell of morning sickness); as under butler the task fell to Thomas to retrieve it all, and so he sat at the servant’s hall making a list while Jimmy sat next to him timidly going through Branson’s shirt collars to see which ones needed tossing. He was going remarkably slow, not truly focused on his task, and Thomas wished more than ever that Jimmy could take a break and play piano if only to calm his nerves._ _

__But Carson’s rules stood firm and so the servant’s hall remained free of music._ _

__“Mail!” Came Danny’s chirpy voice, followed by him puttering into the servant’s hall with his little silver tray. There were two letters upon it, and Jimmy groaned audibly when Danny came around the table to offer his tray up to Thomas._ _

__Thomas took the unmarked letter without question, tucking it into his vest. Danny watched Jimmy rub his temples, noting how gray faced and still Jimmy was, and frowned._ _

__“Are you okay Uncle Jimmy?” Danny asked, nervously._ _

__“He’s fine, Danny.” Thomas assured him gently, “Just a headache.”_ _

__Danny was not the only one to have noticed Jimmy’s distress. At the head of the table, going over Thomas’ latest linen cupboard inventory sweep, Mrs. Hughes looked up slightly confused. Thomas paid her no mind, scratching down line after line on his grocery list making sure that everyone would be accounted for when he finally left. He’d have to use Mr. Pelham in order to get everything back to the house- it would save time to take the care… and it would be safer not to walk down the roads._ _

__Jimmy had stopped going through collars. He was staring at Thomas’ vest pocket, aubergine eyes incredibly tense. He looked pale and clammy again, three hairs away from a nervous explosion. Danny was still puttering about the room, handing the other letter to John who was working on going through Lord Grantham’s collars as well._ _

__Jimmy’s eye twitched as Thomas scratched out another line on his paper._ _

__“Don’t worry about it.” Thomas spoke up, catching Jimmy’s eye and offering him a gentle smile. “Finish your collars before Branson dirties another suit.”_ _

__“How.” Jimmy whispered, shaking his head in disbelief, “How can I sit here or go through collars or do anything when-“_ _

__“I told you before,” Thomas assured him, “I’ll take care of it.”_ _

__“Take care of what?” Mrs. Hughes asked.  
No one answered her. _ _

__The second that beat on too long, the question that remained unchallenged seemed to worry Mrs. Hughes more than any amount of groaning ever could. She set down Thomas’ clipboard, scrutinizing Jimmy’s pallid complexion and sweaty brow, the way his usually cheeky gaze and jovial nature were now trumped by anxiety and terror. Truly concerned, Mrs. Hughes took off her reading glasses to stow them in her breast pocket so that she could see Jimmy more clearly._ _

__“James?” Mrs. Hughes spoke up._ _

__“Nothing, Mrs. Carson.” Thomas replied, distracting her from asking Jimmy anymore. Slowly, Jimmy began fumbling with Branson’s collars again though he was hardly checking them anymore as much as he was simply holding them in sweaty palms._ _

__Thomas sniffed, folding up his completed grocery list and stowing it in his vest pocket next to the damning letter. Rising up he nearly made it to the door before Mrs. Hughes called out. “Oh, Mr. Barrow, will you put down for a bottle of wood milk while you’re at the cleaners? We’re running rather low.”_ _

__“Certainly Mrs. Carson.” Thomas replied, pulling out the list from his pocket to quickly jot down the change. As he refolded his list, he noted Jimmy watching him from the table, eyes wide and horrified._ _

__“I have to go to the village-“ Thomas admitted._ _

__“No!” Jimmy cried out, aghast.  
Everyone in the room paused. _ _

__“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Hughes was taken aback. She wasn’t the only one confused. Even John had looked up from Lord Grantham’s collars utterly confused. Across from him, Anna stopped reading on the to-do’s of hairdryers, her studying distracted by Jimmy’s cry. Phyllis looked up from Lady Grantham’s jewels which she’d been cleaning with care. By her knees, Danny sat bolt upright, watching intently as Jimmy trembled in his seat._ _

__“You can’t go into the village alone.” Jimmy forbade him, “Y’can’t go into the village period.”_ _

__Thomas noticed Danny watching and jerked his head to the hallway in order for Jimmy to follow him out. Jimmy stumbled from his seat at once. The minute they were out of eyesight, requested near the boot room, Thomas leaned in to whisper in Jimmy’s ear lest another overhear:_ _

__“Jimmy, it’s fine.” Thomas urged, “I know what I’m about-“ but before Thomas could explain his plan of hidden kitchen knives and car rides Jimmy cut him off. His voice was so mangled by panic that Thomas could barely understand him._ _

__“But we don’t know he’s about!” Jimmy hissed, nodding to Thomas’ vest pocket, “He could have friends! He could be massive- he could know your schedule and be plotting- he could be waiting right outside the gate-“_ _

__“Jimmy,” Thomas tried to stop him even as Jimmy continued on with one terrifying possibility after another; he was almost on the verge of irritation though it was hardly fair. What had Jimmy done but been frightened in a world that deprived them of comfort and security? Thomas would be remiss to forget that he too had once been afraid. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you- I didn’t want you to be paranoid-!”_ _

__“Paranoid of what?”_ _

__They were no longer alone. Mrs. Hughes had followed them out into the hallway, just as concerned as she’d been in the servant’s hall before the others. She looked first to Thomas who said nothing, to Jimmy who looked on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Between the pair of them no answers were easily forthcoming._ _

__“It’s-“ Jimmy blurted out, ready to tell everything._ _

__“It’s nothing.” Thomas cut him off, eager for no one else to know-_ _

__“It’s not bloody well nothing!” Jimmy cried out, and his voice was so loud that it was obvious everyone in the servant’s hall (including Danny would be able to hear him). Mrs. Hughes jumped, alarmed at being shouted at._ _

__“Keep your voice down, Mr. Kent!” Mrs. Hughes reprimanded him. This just got Jimmy madder-_ _

__“I bloody won’t!” He cried out._ _

__Danny poked his head around the corner, wide eyed and fearful._ _

__“Is everythin’ okay?” Danny asked, nervous. Jimmy grabbed at his throat, massaging it nervously as he looked away from Danny back down the hallway. He was beginning to shake, always a danger sign. Thomas desperately tried to fix his face into something akin to benign calm, smiling hesitantly as Mrs. Hughes continued to stare at Jimmy like he had three heads._ _

__“Yes, everything’s fine, Danny.” Thomas assured him at once, “Don’t worry. Uncle Jimmy’s just…” Thomas glanced at Jimmy, watching how he continued to tremble, “Having a bad day. We all have bad days.”_ _

__Mrs. Hughes coughed, patting her hair as she was wont to do when she was thinking hard. Fixing her facial expression into something slightly serene, she gestured aimlessly to the kitchens and said, “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and see if Daisy can fetch you a biscuit, Danny?”_ _

__Still looking slightly disturbed, Danny slunk away and towards the kitchen. As soon as he rounded the corner Mrs. Hughes continued patting at the side of her head, offering another wave of the hand to Jimmy who was ashen faced and exhausted._ _

__“Mr. Kent, won’t you step into my office? I have something I want to discuss with you about Mr. Branson’s riding vest- it’s all out of sorts.”_ _

__She walked as she spoke, so that Jimmy had to drift off after her lest he be left behind Thomas watched the pair of them go, well aware that Mrs. Hughes was about to badger the truth out of Jimmy and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Determined to get out of the house before the gates were slammed shut on him, Thomas headed for Mr. Carson’s office even as the door to Mrs. Hughes’ office closed. He fetched his coat, shrugging it on before realizing that he still had not asked Danny if there was anything he wanted from the village. He quickly returned to the servant’s hall, finding it much the same as before with Danny back in his seat and sporting a little plate full of sweetened almond biscuits. John watched as Thomas entered the room, coming around the table to rub Danny upon the back. Danny smiled up at him sweetly._ _

__“I’m going into the village.” Thomas told him, “How about I get you something special, yeah?”_ _

__“Like what?!” Danny asked delighted, his eyes sparking as if by fireworks._ _

__“Oh I dunno.” Thomas cocked an eyebrow suggestively, reaching up to Danny’s hair in order to pull a curly brown lock back from his face, “You’ve been very good.”_ _

__“Can I get some more drawing pencils, please?” Danny begged, his voice going higher as he screwed his face up with hope, “Please??”_ _

__“Well see.” Thomas stroked his hand through Danny’s hair. “You still have to be good. That doesn’t get to stop just because you get pencils.”_ _

__“What was that about in the hallway?” John spoke up. “Why was Jimmy shouting?”  
Phyllis watched with intrigue, likewise curious. _ _

__“Couldn’t tell you.” Thomas lied, forcing a fake smile on his face which John didn’t swallow for a second. “I’m running into the village do you need anything?”_ _

__“Some more Beechams.” John admitted._ _

__“Already getting them.” Thomas assured him, adjusting the collar of his coat as he headed for the door. “Danny until I get back you behave and do as you’re told.”_ _

__Danny’s response to this was to clamber off his chair in order to head back into the kitchen, his little plate cleaned of biscuits and needing more. Thomas watched him go, wondering how many pounds the poor lad would pack on if he kept eating Mrs. Patmore’s sweets. Yet even as Thomas approached the door to the hallway, ready to leave, Mrs. Hughes walked through with Jimmy who had slightly more color in his face but still looked petrified. Mrs. Hughes threw up a hand, catching him before she could leave. She looked most annoyed with him and glared as she spoke._ _

__“Take off your coat, Thomas.” Mrs. Hughes grumbled, “You’re not going into the village.”_ _

__Thomas looked from Mrs. Hughes who was glaring to Jimmy whose guilty expression spoke miles._ _

__So it seemed she knew._ _

__Thomas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck irritably as Jimmy continued to purse his lips and look at the floor._ _

___Damnit Jimmy_ , Thomas thought, _I wish you hadn’t said anything. Now she’ll never live it down_. _ _

__“I’ll be fine, Mrs. Carson-“ Thomas tried, “We’re in a great need for several things-“_ _

__But Mrs. Hughes cut him off with a wave of the hand, efficiently shutting down whatever argument he could offer._ _

__“Come into Mr. Carson’s office.” Mrs. Hughes ordered, and before Thomas could deny her she left heading down the hall. Thomas gaped, watching her go, his eyes finally falling on Jimmy who was looking decidedly more guilty by the second._ _

__“Sorry if your life is worth more to me than tuppence.” Jimmy blurted out, his voice bordering on a hiss as he sniffed emotionally and looked away. Thomas sighed, exasperated as he irritably shrugged out of his coat and held it over his arm._ _

__“This is why I didn’t want to tell you, you realize that?” Thomas warned._ _

__“I don’t care!” Jimmy hissed, aubergine eyes blazing as he met Thomas’ own, “I know now!”_ _

__How true._ _

__“What’s going on?” John demanded from his chair, setting Lord Grantham’s collars back in their box and gently folding the tissue paper over each of them._ _

__“It’s nothing-“ Thomas tried to stop, but Jimmy steamrolled past him, fumbling with the inside of his vest to jerk out an entire sheaf of compressed threat letters. Thomas gaped, wondering how long Jimmy had been carrying them around on his person._ _

__“Someone’s been writing threatening letters to Thomas. Look!” Jimmy thrust them under John’s nose, and John set Lord Grantham’s collars aside to take the letters at once. Anna leaned in, disturbed, and as the pair of them read Anna’s eyes grew as wide as the tea saucer she held. “Sheets and sheets of them, just like this-!”_ _

__“Jimmy-“ Thomas groaned, raking a hand down his face as John and Anna continued to read._ _

__“Don’t you ‘Jimmy’ me!” Jimmy hissed, and for the first time the others were privy to a furious Jimmy that Thomas could not sooth, “Not when your life is in danger!”_ _

__“Jimmy you are going to scare Danny.” Thomas hissed back starting to grow slightly irritated with Jimmy and his insatiable need for anxiety. If Danny found out about this, they were in for absolute hell. How on earth with Thomas ever be able to explain this to Margret?_ _

__Jimmy looked over his shoulder, checking the hallway to the kitchen nervously. Just beyond it, Mrs. Patmore could still be heard nattering to Danny. “Go on, quick.” Jimmy flustered to Phyllis who’d stopped polishing to watch the entire display confused, “Read them before he comes back.”_ _

__Across the table, Phyllis held her hand out at once, setting aside Lady Grantham’s jewels a little too hastily for a practiced Lady’s Maid. Anna handed a few over to her, and Phyllis read them quickly._ _

__She went white. “Oh my god.” The words tumbled out of her horrified mouth._ _

__“Sheets!” Jimmy declared in a panic that was now shared by Phyllis as she looked up grave, “Sheets just like that! All more violent than the last. Look at this one!” Jimmy added, and he reached back into his vest pocket to pull forth a letter that he’d clearly folded several times. Thomas gaped, wondering just how many letters Jimmy had stuffed on him._ _

__“Are you carrying all of them?” Thomas demanded agape._ _

__“Yes!” Jimmy sniffed, unfolding the letter quickly, “I’ve been checking everyone’s handwriting, and trying to trace the post.” Jimmy sniffed again, shaking his head, “I’ve made no headway… Look at this!” he read aloud to the entire room, each occupant now fully entranced by Jimmy’s disturbing words._ _

___“I know who your mate and spawn are- I’ll kill them both and destroy the seed of evil.”_ Jimmy read, his voice quaking. “The spawn- what if that’s Danny?” _ _

__Phyllis sucked in a tiny breath of terror, looking back down at the letters she held in her hands with the terrible weight of understanding. Anna touched her breast, fingers nervously drumming upon her heart. John was silent, eyes still calm as they watched Thomas’ every reaction to Jimmy’s panic._ _

__“Thomas,” Phyllis whispered, “This is serious.”_ _

__“How long has this been happening?” John asked. “When did the letters start?”_ _

__“All week!” Jimmy hissed, and he gave Thomas an exasperated look that bordered on disappointment, “And here he was about to waltzing into the village like he’s totally free to do so- what if the berk is waiting outside the gates right now?” Jimmy demanded in fear, “What if he’s got a hold of your schedule- what if he’s planning on you going into the village? What if he’s got some huge group waiting with chains and guns and pitchforks and a cannon- what if he strings you up and tars and feathers you in the village square-“_ _

__“You need a bromide.” Thomas cut across him, ready to ring for nanny and put Jimmy to bed with no supper if he kept it up._ _

__“And you need a reality check!” Jimmy begged, though it wasn’t without the deepest amount of love in his strained voice, “This is what serial killers do, they hunt their victims down! That’s what he’s doing to you! To me! To D-“ but even as Jimmy began to utter Danny’s name Danny returned with a cup full of tea. The entire room fell awkwardly silent as Anna quickly took the letters back from Phyllis and folded them up so that Danny could not read them. Even if they had been open, it wouldn’t have mattered- Danny could hardly make out full sentences._ _

__Jimmy sniffed, rubbing his temple. Thomas had a feeling he was getting a headache from all the stress he’d been under lately and wished to god he could take Jimmy into his arms. But he couldn’t; he was in the servant’s hall in front of the others. They were already banned from cards and piano for three months. If Thomas wanted a reference for when he left he’d have to play by the rules or suffer._ _

__“… Mr. Carson wants you.” Jimmy reminded him softly._ _

__Phyllis reached out to Danny who was about to start sipping his tea. He’d been blowing on it with gusto trying to get rid of the heat._ _

__“Danny, come sit with me?” She asked. Danny got out of his chair at once, and Phyllis scooted his teacup over so that he could climb into her lap instead. Now able to reach his cup better, Danny blew on it some more to take his first sip, smacking his lips as he did so._ _

__“You know I love you very much?” Phyllis murmured into his ear, her lips temporarily disappearing in his curly brown hair._ _

__“Mhmm.” Danny said with a smile around a mouthful of tea._ _

__“Good.” She kissed him sweetly. “Good.”_ _

__Anna handed back the threat letters. Thomas took them, bitterly putting them in his pocket next to the yet unopened letter from the afternoon. It wouldn’t do to keep Carson waiting, not when he was already in an irritable mood with Thomas and Jimmy. Rubbing the back of his neck to massage the already tense muscle, Thomas left the servant’s hall to head for Carson’s office. Jimmy stayed behind, unwilling to contend with Carson’s anger when his nerves were already on fire._ _

__Though Thomas wasn’t there to see it, Jimmy slunk into Thomas’ seat and laid his head upon the table, buried in folded arms. Despite the lack of decorum it showed, no one bothered him about it._ _

__

__Down the hallway, Thomas knocked briskly upon Carson’s office door, opening it to find Carson inside at his desk with Mrs. Hughes. Both of them looked worried, with Carson rubbing his temple just like Jimmy while a bottle of Margaux sat decanting upon his desk. It was a mark of how displaced he was that Carson did not think to decant his wine and instead focused solely on Thomas before him._ _

__“Mr. Carson-“ Thomas tried, but Carson raised a hand before Thomas could continue and he was forced to fall silent._ _

__“How many letters have you received of this nature?” Carson asked, his voice grave._ _

__Good question._ _

__Thomas pulled them out of his vest pocket and began to count, coming to the total of thirteen. With the one unopened in his breast pocket… “Fourteen, Mr. Carson.”_ _

__“Fourteen.” Carson repeated, disturbed at the amount. “And when did you think to inform me of the nature of these letters?”_ _

__“Not until I knew more facts, Mr. Carson.” Thomas lied, for if he was damn truthful he wasn’t planning on ever telling Carson ever- the prig. After the argument they’d had the other day Thomas imagined their new-forged peace had been smashed over his head like a heavy vase. Betrayed might have been an adequate term for how he felt._ _

__“I should think the fact that someone wants to kill you is more than enough.” Carson snapped, bordering on arguing with Thomas again._ _

__“Some are more vocal about it than others, Mr. Carson.” Thomas reminded him icily, and Carson fell silent with an expression of ugly acceptance for the frank circumstances before them. He rubbed his chiseled jaw, wondering to himself as Mrs. Hughes fretted beside him._ _

__“His lordship has been discussing with me cuts to be made at the Abbey. You and Kent are frankly at the top of the list.” Carson admitted. Thomas shook his head, none of this was a surprise to him. “But with someone after you-“_ _

__“Stop.” Thomas interjected, and Carson paused, cocking an eyebrow at Thomas’ impertinence._ _

__Was this how it would always be? Thomas having to hide things and Mr. Carson eventually finding out? Being punished, even while brushing into his forties- like he was nothing more than an irritating child?_ _

__He thought of Jimmy, petrified in the servant’s hall with a target painted upon his back. Unable to even play the piano just because Mr. Carson said so._ _

__And all Thomas had to do to get out was just sing. Open his mouth and sing._ _

__“Jimmy and I have been discussing the possibility of leaving.” Thomas explained, realization dawning upon him even as he spoke._ _

___“When you’ve had enough, you’ll know.”_ Jimmy had told him, and just like so many times before, Jimmy had been dead on the money. _ _

__“Have you?” Carson seemed dismayed, rocking back in his enormous swivel chair. His frown was genuine, as much as it surprised Thomas, who was of the opinion that Carson would be ready to dance a jig once Thomas and Jimmy walked out. “If someone has been writing you-“_ _

__“That is my problem, Mr. Carson.” Thomas refused to discuss it any further, despite not knowing a solution himself, “I will handle it.”_ _

__A silence stretched on between them, punctuated only by the groan of Mr. Carson’s chair and Mrs. Hughes’ steady breathing. Thomas ran a hand through his slicked hair, pushing a few strands back into place. Mr. Carson looked down at his desk, drumming his fingers upon the wood. He pushed a few errant letters back into place, tidying up even as he softly spoke, “Are you saying you’re leaving?”_ _

__Thomas was surprised to find how light his heart felt as he replied, “I am.”_ _

__Mrs. Hughes was amazed, fingers brushing against her throat where the broach Thomas had bought her last Christmas sat pinned to her collar. Mr. Carson folded, relaxed, then refolded his hands. He fidgeted as if there were something he wanted to say, but remained silent for the time being as Thomas felt his lips begin to stretch into a smile._ _

___Yes. They were leaving_. _ _

__“I’ll work out the rest of the week,” Thomas said, glancing at Carson’s desk calendar. It was the twelfth, a Monday, “And leave on Friday. Does that please you?”_ _

__“More than enough time for a reference.” Carson sighed, “In lieu of circumstances, we won’t hold you to two weeks notice. But what about this threatening stranger sending you letters? Don’t you feel you’ll be an open target?”_ _

__“He can hardly threaten us if we’re not here. We’ll slip out of the village early Friday morning and be gone.”_ _

__Thomas suddenly couldn’t stop smiling._ _

__“But where will you go?” Mrs. Hughes asked, her voice itching with curiosity at Thomas’ now obvious delight. Indeed, for no reason at all she was beginning to smile too so that the pair of them were suddenly grinning like idiots while Mr. Carson sat grumbling at his desk._ _

__“London.” Thomas explained. “We have a support system there.” Which was the politest way for him to say _“We’re about to throw you stiff lot over for a jazz band.”_ _ _

__“We?” Carson spoke up abruptly._ _

__“… Jimmy’s coming with me.” As if this wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. Still Carson looked scandalized._ _

__“But why?” Carson demanded. “And how will you work? Where will you live?”_ _

__“It won’t matter.” Thomas shrugged, almost blissful now, “Because we’ll be together.”_ _

__Carson scowled at him, the realization finally dawning that Thomas and Jimmy would now be living in “full time flagrant delicto” without anyone to stop them._ _

__“I see.” Carson muttered. “If that’s all you have to say-“_ _

__“It is.” Thomas felt as if an enormous weight had been taken off his chest in the moment. The very air he breathed suddenly seemed to smell sweeter. Had life always been this grand? Thomas couldn’t know. He felt as if he’d been in a cole hole and finally shown through to the other side- as if he’d emerged from a hibernation into a bright fresh spring where every flower was as vibrant as a kaleidoscope._ _

__“Well we’ll be sad to see you go.” Mrs. Hughes smiled, but it was clear she bore him no ill will. In that moment, Thomas loved her as dearly as if she were his own mother, though he could not say why. He felt as if his heart was more open, more free, than it had ever been before._ _

__“It’s time for us to move on.” Thomas declared, feeling strong in his decision despite the uncertainties it held._ _

__“Is it?” Carson was still the only one not smiling, indeed he looked almost depressed, “When I thought you would replace me?”_ _

__Thomas regarded Carson before him- his aged face and weary shoulders. The way he carried every burden without once stumbling. How his love for the family was only paralleled by his love for his wife- and how in his own disturbing way he’d been more of a father to Thomas than his own father ever had. Thomas thought of the one time the two of them had been fully honest with each other as Thomas had wept in Carson’s arms. How Carson had commended him and declared he was proud of him. How Thomas had been so utterly relieved to know Carson didn’t hate him._ _

__And then Thomas thought of how Carson had utterly shamed him a week ago- humiliated him to the point of losing his temper and being smacked by Mrs. Hughes._ _

__“I cannot live my life for anyone but me, Mr. Carson.” Thomas declared, and it was with a smile on his face that he said, “The world is waiting.”_ _

__Carson was stunned into silence by Thomas’ courage as he turned and left the office, closing the door gently behind him to head back into the servant’s hall. Jimmy was slumped in his abandoned seat, head in his arms and disturbed by no one as Danny napped on Phyllis’ lap and John and Anna discussed baby names for what was surely the hundredth time._ _

__Thomas walked around the table, gently rubbing Jimmy’s shoulders till he stirred and raised his head. He was utterly miserable, lost in a miasma of anxiety that Thomas was determined to lift._ _

__“C’mon.” Thomas urged, unable to stop himself from smiling. Jimmy watched him, confused, “Let’s go for a smoke outside.”_ _

__“S’not safe.” Jimmy shook his head, sitting up.”_ _

__“C’mon.” Thomas kept on smiling, and it was with an incredible stroke of bravery that Thomas reached down to take Jimmy’s hand upon the table, pulling him up out of his seat. Jimmy stared at where they held hands, amazed at his forwardness before the others who had all gone oddly silent._ _

__“We can’t.” Jimmy whispered, and in that moment Thomas did not know if Jimmy was referring to the fact that they were holding hands publicly or the fact that Thomas wanted to smoke outside where a serial killer might be waiting._ _

__“We can.” Thomas said, and he did so with another gust of courage. Utterly confused, Jimmy reached out with his free hand as they passed the table and headed for the door, itching towards the fireplace where John and Anna sat._ _

__“Wait, let’s take the poker by the fire- or-“_ _

__“Jimmy!” Thomas laughed gayly at the silliness of it all, pulling Jimmy along by the hand just as Jimmy snagged the poker. Together the pair of them headed down the hall at a tripping pace, and as Thomas reached the back door he did not let go of Jimmy’s hand in order to unlock it and pull it open. The pair of them stumbled into the October cold, with Thomas shutting the door behind them, and they both breathed the fresh air with a sigh of relief. They hadn’t been outside in nearly a week, and it had sparked a feeling of claustrophobia in them both. Above them, the stars were just beginning to peek out as the sun set, coloring Jimmy’s hair a tawny gold as his aubergine eyes grew darker still. Smiling, Thomas kept walking, eager to take them to the fence post where they so often smoked. But Jimmy resisted, pulling back and holding tight to his poker._ _

__“Not so far away from the door.” Jimmy begged. “Please- Thomas- I’m scared!” Jimmy cried out, looking automatically ashamed and resentful as he at once looked away._ _

__Thomas paused, smiling gently as he reached out with his free hand to touch Jimmy’s face. Jimmy was startled from his bitterness at the touch, amazed by Thomas’ forwardness when they were literally right in front of the door to the back step. Anyone could see should they walk through._ _

__But Thomas didn’t care anymore, and soon neither would Jimmy.  
He couldn’t stop smiling. _ _

__“Jimmy.” Thomas stroked his cheek with such loving care, amazing at how the sunset made him glow like gold. “I talked with Mr. Carson.”_ _

__“And?” Jimmy stuttered, eyes flicking from Thomas to the back door._ _

__“… I gave him our notice.” Thomas said._ _

__Jimmy stared.  
His mouth dropped.   
He began to smile. _ _

__“We’ll work until Friday.” Thomas chuckled, “And leave on the first train for London… and Jack.”_ _

__“Oh-!” Jimmy cried out, his anxiety falling from his shoulders to clang to the ground (actually, that was just the fire poker), and he threw his arms about Thomas’ neck at once. Thomas picked him up about the waist, propriety be damned as he swung Jimmy around. For a moment the pair of them were laughing like children, utterly freed from their prior responsibilities which had threatened for so long to crush their individualistic spirits. Now at last they could spread their wings- now at last they could fly._ _

__“Oh I love you-“ Jimmy sounded closed to weeping for his joy. “I love you so much.”_ _

__And despite being in front of the back door where anyone could see, Jimmy pulled back to kiss Thomas squarely on the mouth. Thomas accepted that happy kiss, hungry for more- hungry for life and love. When Jimmy drew back, he was beaming in the setting sun._ _

__“This is it, Thomas!” Jimmy declared with fierce glee, cupping Thomas’ face in his enthusiastic hands, “This is the beginning of the rest of our lives! I’m so happy- I’m so happy, thank you-“ He kissed Thomas again, with almost bruising force. When he pulled back once more, both of them were laughing dizzily._ _

__“Now let’s get back inside where it’s safe!” Jimmy begged, but this time there was a massive smile on his face as he snatched up the poker and tugged Thomas back toward the door._ _

__Thomas went laughing all the way._ _

__~*~_ _

__That night, Thomas re entered Carson’s abandoned office with a cup of tea in hand and a smile upon his face._ _

__The rest of the day had seemed to fly by, and Thomas had almost been keen to toss all his threatening letters in the fireplace save that Jimmy thought they might need them for the police in future. Seeing the sense in this, Thomas locked all his letters in his bedside drawer and began to plans for his future. Knowing that he would be in London, and on the start to a new life with Jimmy by Saturday put Thomas in such a delightful mood that despite Carson’s prior punishment music filled the servant’s hall that night as Jimmy treated everyone to a round of piano and Thomas played cards with John and Andy. Danny humored the entire lot of them by putting on an impromptu dance, grabbing some of Anna’s unused lace strands and using it like a boa as he twirled and jumped for Jimmy’s version of _“I’m Just Wild About Harry”_. _ _

__Now Jimmy was upstairs with Danny, giving him a bath before bed. Danny certainly needed it after all the hair pomade Phyllis had combed into his locks- he looked like he’d been dipped in grease. Undisturbed while Carson spoke with his Lordship and Branson about the upcoming staffing changes, Thomas sat down in his swivel chair and reached for the telephone._ _

__It was time to make a call._ _

__Setting his tea aside for the moment, Thomas dialed for the switchboard operator first in London. As the phone finally began to ring for his direct line, Thomas drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk. So excited was he for his future that even small waits felt like years. But eventually, the line picked up, and Thomas was greeted to the smooth voice of Jack Ross._ _

___“Jack Ross.”_ _ _

__“Mr. Ross-“ Thomas took a small, quick sip of tea “This is Thomas Barrow-“_ _

___“Well I’ll be damned, Mr. Barrow.”_ Jack sounded pleased, _“I was hoping you’d give me a call.”_ _ _

__“I should imagine you already know why?” Thomas relaxed into Mr. Carson’s swivel chair._ _

___“More talk or straight to the quick of the matter?”_ _ _

__“I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.” Thomas declared, “And be your back up singer. Jimmy will be returning with me as your piano man… if you still want us.”_ _

___“The sun is shining on me tonight!”_ Jack sounded genuinely pleased, _“When can I expect you?”_ _ _

__“Well, we’re going to work out the rest of the week, and leave for London on Friday. If that’s not too much to ask.”_ _

___“Not at all!”_ Jack assured him _“Our next scheduled performance is at the Criterion on the twenty fifth- a Duke’s birthday. It should be good for tips and such- and it’ll give you both plenty of time to get into the swing of things.”_ _ _

__“We don’t exactly have a place to live.” Thomas admitted, “Do you know of any properties available?”_ _

___“As it stands, I’ve just bought a bigger practice studio and there’s a two bedroom flat above it. Bigger wash closet and kitchen than Jimmy had in his old flat, not to mention your own living room. If you’d like you can move in there, and I’ll just take the rent out of your paychecks. You and Jimmy can halve it.”_ _ _

__“That sounds fantastic.” Thomas was starting to grin again, imagining that should Jimmy not find it to his tastes they could always rent it out for the time being till they found another place. The future was full of opportunities now. “Thank you, Mr. Ross.”_ _

___“I’ll let the neighbors know- and it’ll need some cleaning out.”_ Jack admitted. _ _

__“We could do that.” Thomas offered, wondering at how delighted Jimmy would be when he went upstairs and gave him the news. “We’re rather excited about all of this.”_ _

___“I’d imagine.”_ Jack joked, _“Get yourself some thick curtains.”_ _ _

__“Oh, you are a funny man.” Thomas snorted, for once not taking offense to such jokes. Somehow, everything seemed lighter to him. Like he could for once see the humor in his ugly circumstances. “There is one more thing, Mr. Ross-“_ _

___“Yes?”_ _ _

__“We’re bringing a young boy with us. But only for a while.”_ _

___“Starting a family already?”_ Jack joked. _ _

__“He’s my sister’s son.” Thomas said, “My father was abusing him. He cracked the boy over the face- gave him a nasty beating… My sister brought him to me a few weeks ago to keep him safe. Now that I’m leaving, he’ll obviously have to come with me, but only until she gets settled in her new living situation. Then obviously he’ll go back to her. If that’s not too much to ask?” He added hastily._ _

___“To ask?”_ Jack said in dismay. Thomas winced, rubbing his temple with his free hand. _ _

__“I understand if it’s odd.” He began but Jack cut him off._ _

___“It’s sad is what it is. A grown man hurting a child- one related to him no less? He’s more than welcome in London, Mr. Barrow. What’s his name?”_ _ _

__“Daniel.” Thomas let out a sigh of relief, “Daniel Baxter. He’s six years old.”_ _

___“So long as he doesn’t interrupt a set he can stay as long as he likes.”_ _ _

__“Oh-“ Thomas praised, feeling rather like a parent for how he doted on Danny, “He’s no trouble- he’s like a little bird. A right gentleman.”_ _

___“Then I’ll be seeing all three of you come Friday morning.”_ Jack agreed. _ _

__“We’ll take the six o’clock train and be at the flat by ten.” Thomas declared, unable to stop grinning once again. He wondered if his delight was audible in his voice. If Jack was smiling on the other end of the phone as well._ _

___“Very good!_ ” There was a hard smack on the other end of the line, as if Jack was having a drink and had set the glass down slightly too hard. _“I’ll mail you the directions and see you then.”_ _ _

__“Thank you Mr. Ross.” Thomas gushed once again, unable to stop himself for the relief he felt, “Thank you for everything. You’ve saved our lives over here.”_ _

__He supposed Jack would never realize what a marvelous thing he’d done for Thomas and Jimmy. To Jack it must be good business, but to them it was a way out, a way forward… a way to a home where they wouldn’t have to hide or be punished for love. After fifteen years of exhaustive service, Thomas was finally leaving Downton Abbey and he could not be more relieved to do so. He’d miss the others (save for Carson) but they were a sacrifice he had to make if he wanted to be free._ _

__And _oh_ , did he. _ _

___“For god’s sake Mr. Barrow-“_ Jack chortled, _“Don’t thank a friend.”_  
And with that, both of them hung up._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please review if you enjoyed it or have comments. I always appreciate and reply to reviews, even if not right away! I apologize for any spelling errors on my behalf, this story is un Beta'd.


	5. The Christening of 36 Wardour Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas kept his eyes peeled for number 36, the home he’d worked so hard to achieve and waited so long to know. He felt like a child opening a present on Christmas morning, like the fairy tales of youth were somehow all based on fact now. 
> 
> When he finally saw the building, he was not disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, we've arrived at a very interesting chapter. I do so hope you'll enjoy it. Readers are always appreciated, as are reviews. Thank you so much for keeping up with this continued story. Hopefully she delivers.

On October 20th, Thomas awoke at four in the morning to a dark, quiet, and cold dawning. He had to shut off his alarm relatively quickly lest he wake Danny who was still asleep beside him. Jimmy was curled up on Danny’s other side peacefully, but as Thomas sat up in bed and ran a hand absently through tangled black hair, Jimmy opened his eyes. He smiled, giddy, and whispered, “Get me out of here.” 

He was like a child, grinning at Jimmy. The day was full of such endless possibilities, such exciting new starts, that Thomas felt almost as if he’d swallowed a box of fireworks. Eager to get a move on with his new life, Thomas leaned over Danny to kiss Jimmy softly upon the lips. 

“With pleasure, my darling.” Thomas whispered back. 

They’d packed the night before, cramming everything into two valises that they’d acquired over the years. Thomas was almost amazed at how little he possessed, at how easy it was to depersonalize his room after living in it for fifteen years. His room was now bare, save for a few toiletries he’d left out to make ready for the day and a suit that hung over the back of his desk chair. Jimmy had done the same, and now the pair of them stripped out of their pajamas to put them away in their respective valises. Re dressing in their suits, Thomas and Jimmy were quick to comb their hair and brush their teeth as they finally stuffed all their belongings in threadbare leather valises and made to (at last) rouse Danny from his own sleep. Stooping over his bed, Thomas rubbed Danny’s back, fingers threading lightly through his curly brown hair. Danny shifted, moaning a little in his sleep. 

“Danny.” Thomas murmured, “Danny, wake up.” 

Jimmy helped, pulling the covers of the bed back to reveal that Danny was already dressed save for his shoes and outer jacket. Both were waiting at the foot of the bed. As Thomas helped Danny to sit up Danny rubbed his eyes blearily and moaned a yawn, completely out of it. 

“Why did he sleep with his clothes on?” Jimmy chuckled, fetching Danny’s shoes to slip them onto Danny’s feet and lace them up. 

“So he wouldn’t have to get dressed at four in the morning.” Thomas replied, helping Danny to shrug on his jacket. 

“Wha’ time is it?” Danny moaned, yawning again. He couldn’t keep his eyes opened for very long. 

“Time for us to catch our train!” Thomas gave him a sweet smile, quickly running a comb through Danny’s hair before finally packing it up in his valise. With Nan tucked securely to his chest, Danny went willingly into Thomas arms. Thomas perched him upon the hip, allowing for Danny to fall back asleep with his head on Thomas’ shoulder as Thomas picked up his valise. Jimmy fetched his own valise and Danny’s (which was significantly smaller than either of theirs), getting the door as Thomas flicked off the lights one last time. 

He looked over his shoulder, taking in everything from the curtains over the skylights to the threadbare chair he’d drug into the room… to everything that had once been his refuge and center of strength. 

To Jimmy was waiting over the threshold with a gentle smile. 

Thomas smiled, tipping his head and allowing Jimmy to close his door. Setting his valise down, Thomas reached out and gingerly plucked his name card out of its brass holding so as not to tear the paper. Deciding on the spot that he would keep it, Thomas slipped it into his pocket and picked it valise back up. It was time to move on. 

“Can you carry him the whole way?” Jimmy asked softly. Danny was snoring on Thomas’ shoulder. They tread lightly through the dark, Jimmy going first down the stairs to the basement. Thomas could hear Andy snoring from his room, a deep rumbling gasp. 

“Prepare to be amazed.” Thomas could not help his cheek; he felt incredibly lucky in that moment as he descended the stairs. When they hit the basement at long last, it came as no surprise that none were up. Even the most begrudging hall boy would still have about an hour to sleep. Yet oddly enough, there was a dim light glowing from the kitchen which revealed itself to be none other than Mrs. Patmore. 

Thomas stopped dead, amazed at her being up, but Mrs. Patmore didn’t so much as flinch while she prepared a little knapsack of sandwiches and fruit. Jimmy set down their valises, taking off his hat for proprieties sake. Mrs. Patmore had already made a pot of coffee that filtered the entire room with a heavenly aroma. Thomas wished he could have a cup, but they were running out of time and needed to get a move on for the station. Mr. Pelham had consented to drive them in lieu of the circumstances (Jimmy did not want to be on the road alone at dawn), and would no doubt be waiting outside. 

“I’ve made you something for the train.” Mrs. Patmore explained, tying up the knapsack to hand it to Jimmy who kept a firm grip on it while also holding his valise. The night before, Jimmy and Thomas had taken it upon themselves to make a personal joke of sorts- a bowl of cut strawberries and tomatoes which they were going to put on the Bates’ doorstep. He fetched it from the icebox now, scooting Danny’s miniature valise underneath his arm to hold the small ceramic bowl by his fingertips. 

“Thank you.” Thomas said, noting that Mrs. Patmore seemed to be on the verge of blubbering as she bustled about her kitchen making another pot of coffee. 

“Well… Have a good journey-“ she said while not looking at them, “Let us know when you arrive safely.” 

“We will.” Thomas assured her, noting that there were biscuits in their knapsack, “And thank you for the biscuits-“ 

“Be off with you.” She cut him off with a wave of the hand, eyes full of mixed emotion, “I won’t have this soppiness in my kitchen, y’hear? S’too early for it.” 

Thomas smiled, tipping his head. He wouldn’t begrudge her for it. 

“Will you tell Daisy-“ Thomas offered, but Mrs. Patmore cut him off with a firm wave of the hand. 

“No, I will not.” Mrs. Patmore snapped, “The less you two say to each other, the better.” 

Thomas frowned, but he could see the sense in that. Perhaps it was better if they didn’t say goodbye, though Thomas did want to. He felt as if there was a chapter unclosed in his life at the abbey now, but as Mr. Carson had said only last week… Thomas had done this to himself. He had no one else to blame, save for perhaps society. 

Jimmy tipped his head to Mrs. Patmore as they headed out of the room. Thomas noted that Mrs. Patmore paused a little as they left the room, a bitter frown upon her kindly face as if she wished they weren't leaving at all. But their time at the abbey had run dry. It had turned from a comfort into a cage, trapping them from living the life they ought to. 

Thomas and Jimmy headed down the hall for the back door, ready to make their way out into the darkened grounds of early morning. Yet as they passed by Mr. Carson’s office, they were suddenly paused by a short sharp “Ah!" that stopped them both dead. Thomas was amazed to see Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes waiting inside, and wondered in that moment how early both of them would have had to have risen in order to be available for when Thomas and Jimmy left. Mrs. Hughes was wearing her pansy broach, and fingered it lovingly as the pair of them stepped out of the office to greet them in the hall. 

Mr. Carson looked just as bitter as Mrs. Patmore, but Thomas had a feeling it was for other reasons. 

“Are you off then?” Mrs. Hughes asked kindly. 

“Yes." Thomas nodded. “I suspect you’ll be glad to see the back of me-“ 

“Oh!” Mrs. Hughes snorted softly, “Never you mind that, give me a kiss.” 

Chuffed, Thomas leaned in a little careful not to jostle Danny upon his shoulder as he softly kissed Mrs. Hughes upon the cheek. When he pulled back her eyes were sparkling. 

“You got your sandwiches?” She observed, noting the knapsack that Jimmy held. 

"We did.” Jimmy agreed, glancing at Mr. Carson who was glaring at Jimmy darkly. Thomas almost had half a mind to tell him to stop for how uncomfortable it was making both of them. 

“Well then.” Mrs. Hughes smiled gently at him, gesturing to the back door. The four of them headed for it, with Mr. Carson opening it so that Thomas and Jimmy could both step outside. The palest tint of dawn was beginning to color the sky a navy blue. The stars twinkled, still quite visible in the frosty morning air. Not a soul stirred outside, save for the puttering roar of Mr. Pelham waiting in the motorcar at the mouth of the courtyard. Thomas paused, noting the work table where he'd sat so many times smoking and plotting, working on clocks or generally hating the world. He’d kissed Daisy upon that bench. 

It was as foreign to him in that moment as the language of Arabic. In a way, he never wanted to see that table again… or anything it stood for. He almost wanted to burn it, to set it on fire. 

Mr. Pelham was waiting, and Jimmy in an effort to speed things along quickly ferried their three valises to the back of the motorcar where he belted them down. Opening the motorcar door to set their knapsack as well as the little bowl of strawberries and tomatoes inside, Jimmy shut it again to rejoin Thomas and the others in the courtyard. 

Mrs. Hughes reached up again, this time hugging Thomas and leaning in to whisper in his ear as he rubbed her back, “I am so happy that you got away.” 

Thomas pulled back, smiling softly at her and wondering at how lovely she was. At how wonderful and kind. How was it possible that the world could churn out people like his father and people like Mrs. Hughes in the same batch? It seemed to almost defy the laws of nature. 

"Thank you for…" Thomas paused, wondering if he could sum up all that he ought to thank Mrs. Hughes for. He doubted it somehow, for her kindness spanned across a decade of unworthy bitterness on his part. “For everything, I suppose.” He mumbled, “Thank you for everything.” 

Mrs. Hughes seemed to understand what he meant, and she rubbed him on the back again. “You’ll be just fine, Thomas." She assured him softly, “You’re a survivor. You can handle anything life throws at you. And I know Danny will be most grateful for your guidance.” 

Carson was still glaring, hands stiff at his sides as he observed Mrs. Hughes loving affection. Thomas glanced at him, somehow unable to look him in the face at that moment. 

He didn’t know why, but suddenly he wanted to skip his goodbye with Mr. Carson all over again. As if Mr. Carson had failed him in ways that Thomas didn’t even fully understand. 

“Mr. Carson.” Thomas extended his hand in an effort to get it over with. Carson shook his head, but did not fully grasp his fingers so that they easily slid away. 

“Mr. Barrow.” Carson grumbled. “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t get on well in your new life. I doubt your old one ever suited you well. Still, no one’s ever called you stupid- I imagine you’ll adapt easily.” 

Thomas somehow found this statement to be almost… crude. As if Carson had insulted him instead. He said nothing looking at his shoes instead of Mr. Carson’s face. 

He doubted Mr. Carson would ever find it in him to apologize to Thomas for all that he'd done over the years. He doubted he would ever have the courage to demand it. 

Jimmy seemed to sense that Thomas was growing dark in his mood, and reached out to tug Thomas gently upon the elbow. 

“C’mon.” Jimmy muttered softly, and Thomas glanced up to see him jerking his head towards the car, “We better go. The train.” 

“Right.” Thomas agree, glancing back to Mrs. Hughes who looked on the verge of tears. 

“Mrs. Carson.” Thomas murmured, stepping up once more to take her upon the elbow just as Jimmy had done. “I wanted to say, before I left-“ 

“Thomas…” She cut him off, reaching up to touch his face. Her hand was soft upon his skin, and he closed his eyes at the affection. Soaking it up, “You needn’t thank me for being kind to you. I only wish more were.” 

Thomas sniffed, allowing Mrs. Hughes’ hand to linger upon his cheek for as long as he feasibly could with Jimmy waiting and the train coming. He was suddenly reminded of a time when he’d seen his mother again- when he'd held her in his arms for the first time in nearly twenty years. He’d wept into her nightgown and clutched her hand to his cheek. 

“Write when you’re settled." Mrs. Hughes murmured. “So I won’t worry.” 

“Course.” Thomas mumbled. He sniffed again and pulled back so that Mrs. Hughes to stroke Danny’s cheek instead. He was still fast asleep upon Thomas' shoulder. 

“Goodbye m’pet.” She murmured, “You be good to your uncles.” 

“Mmm.” Was Danny's only reply, sucking upon his thumb with eyes closed. 

Thomas nodded, unsure of how to break the moment with Mrs. Hughes, unsure of how to say goodbye. But then Jimmy pulled him upon the arm, urging him toward the car and their new life. Thomas took one step back, then another, and suddenly he was turning. Leaving. 

He looked over his shoulder one last time, up at the abbey and how it towered over him in the pale morning sky. Soon bells would be ringing, and Mrs. Patmore would be serving up baked beans for the downstair’s breakfast. The children would play in the gallery, Tiaa the puppy would want a walk, and Lord Grantham would read in his library. Mr. Carson would order Andy and Moseley to polish silver… Phyllis would darn lace in the servant's hall.

All of it would occur without him, and he didn’t know how he felt about it yet. 

Jimmy opened the door to the motorcar, and Thomas carefully clambered inside with Danny still tucked onto his shoulder. Jimmy slid in after him, shutting the door as Mr. Pelham started up the gear shift. He glanced over his shoulder, wrinkled face stretched into a small smile as he gave a tired yawn and said, “Busy day, lads?” 

“Very.” Jimmy agreed. “but one stop along the way- the Bates' cottage if you will.” 

“I know the place.” Pelham agreed, and just like that they were off. 

Thomas looked over his shoulder out the back window at the courtyard. Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson were still standing there, hand in hand as the motorcar slipped out of sight. 

Thomas almost wanted to call out to her. To stop the car and beg it all to pause. To not change anything if only to save the connection they shared… the kindness she’d shown him. 

But time paused for no man, and so the car trundled on.   
They were slipping round the bend of the courtyard, Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson now out of sight. They were heading down the main driveway, the abbey growing smaller and smaller as it fell away. They turned left onto the main road, heading for the village proper and the Bates’ cottage. 

They hit a line of darkened trees... and the abbey was gone. 

~*~

Their one detour to the station, the Bates’ cottage, was an easy thing to pull off. As they approached, Jimmy merely took the bowl of strawberries and tomatoes to lay it upon the front stoop. They did not even bother knocking upon the door, knowing that soon the Bates would be leaving for work; the pair of them snickered all the way to the station, imagining the sour look upon Anna’s face as she realized their final ploy at crude humor. A strawberry stollen, a strawberry given- it was all the same in the end. 

Poor Danny had taken the stopping car for joyous news, lifting his head groggily to moan, “Are we there yet?" 

“Love, we haven’t even left Yorkshire.” Jimmy had corrected him, and Danny had promptly passed out again on Thomas’ shoulder. 

The train ride to London was a marvelous thing. About halfway through, Danny finally woke up and made quick work of Mrs. Patmore’s corn beef sandwiches. A lady with a trolley came up and down the line, offering fruit and coffee. A throppin later both Thomas and Jimmy were happily caffeinated and Danny was gorging himself on an apple. Thomas had to wipe Danny’s fingers when he was done before they became sticky with juice; Danny busied himself the rest of the ride by laying his head on Thomas’ lap and sucking his thumb with his eyes closed. He was thoroughly content with Nan under his arm and a tummy swollen with good food. 

When the train docked in London, the three of them disembarked with renewed spirits and keen eyes. London had always been a brilliant place to sit and observe, at least in Thomas’ experience, but now it seemed to be even more dazzling. The streets were packed with taxis and pedestrians, each bustling to a different and no one caring about the others. The streets were selling their wares, things Thomas could never have found in Yorkshire or Stockport. There were signs pointing to destinations, newsboys shouting their updates on every street corner, and _fashion-_

No more conservative cloches and bound hair: all of a sudden Thomas found himself surrounded by the Eton crop and Marcel wave, enough to put even Lady Mary to shame. Knee length dresses with dropped waists were a-plenty, while men put forth Oxford bags and double breasted vests. It was clear that both Thomas and Jimmy were from the country in the way that they dressed when they were surrounded by such up to date fashion. Thomas suddenly felt very out-dated in his black sack coat as he flagged a taxi. The three of them clambered inside, with Danny between them, hiding underneath Thomas’ sack coat so as to have a shield from the world. Poor Danny had never been to London before and didn’t quite know what to make of it. Talk about a sensation overload. 

“Oh I can hardly wait-“ Jimmy sighed, grinning from ear to ear as the world rushed by beyond their taxi windows, “Read the letter again-?” 

“As you wish.” Thomas said with a smile. 

This was the third time that Jimmy had asked Thomas to read Jack Ross’ letter, but Thomas was happy to comply once again. Taking it from his coat pocket, Thomas unfolded it smoothing it out upon his lap, and read aloud as Danny sucked on his thumb and hid his face in Thomas' waistcoat. Thomas felt Danny’s little fingers playing on the Albert chain of his pocket watch. 

_“Jimmy and Thomas: Here are the instructions to make your way to your new flat.”_ Thomas read. Beneath the view of the driver, Jimmy snuck his hand over Thomas’ lap to squeeze his thigh, _“Your new home is on 36 Wardour Street in Soho. She’s a two bedroom one bath flat with an equipped kitchenette and entertaining space. Beneath her is the recording studio. She’s unfurnished at the moment save for some spare belongings I moved over from the first flat. You’ll have a mattress when you get there, along with some scraps in the kitchen though I’m not sure what. We make bank quite often, I put my brother through medical school- that being said I’m sure you’ll be able to furnish it soon.”_

"I can’t wait to buy furniture.” Jimmy blurted out, the implied 'with you’ ringing in the air between them. Determined not to let the driver catch on, Thomas desperately smuggled the grin off his face, though he did squeeze Jimmy’s hand back on his thigh. Squished between them, Danny started to play with the cuff of Jimmy’s sleeve, the dull brass cufflinks glinting in the early winter sunlight. 

_“Something to note,”_ Thomas carried on, smirking at Jack’s implications, _“Wardour street has a bit of a reputation. Best bring earplugs. You’ll be right at home, though. There’s a bakery across the street and plenty of antique shops to content yourselves with. There's also a flower shop. You can even buy lavender fronds there.”_ Thomas glanced at Jimmy, who’d snorted underneath his breath, “He thinks he’s so funny." 

“Jack’s a cool cat.” Jimmy assured him, “It’s Elvira you’ve got to worry about." 

“Elvira... the woman I'm taking singing lessons from?" Thomas wondered who he ought to be expecting. Jimmy nodded, giving him a slightly sympathetic smile, “What's she like?” 

“She’s… something." Was all Jimmy said. Thomas didn’t know what on earth to make of that. 

 

Soho was hardly the center of moral activity in London. Packed with cheap pubs and low key restaurants run by foreign nationals, Soho had a distinctly bohemian vibe to it that lacked the opulence of the upper class. There were several well known cafés to dine at such as the Orange, the Moorish Café and The Algerian. _The Strange Case of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde_ had Edward Hyde setting up a home for himself in Soho, and it seemed to make sense. Soho was full of drunken writers, artists, and poets. What was more, Soho was the heart of London’s underground sex industry which must have been why Jack Ross thought Jimmy and Thomas would fit in well there. Prostitutes of all types packed Piccadilly Circus, not to mention the back alleys and side streets. There had been a time, in a darker period of Thomas’ life when he'd briefly considered the possibility of taking up the profession… he would have had no other choice out, with hardly any funds and a lack of a reference. 

Wardour Street was a one-way street that ran north from Leicester Square through Shaftesbury Avenue right onto Oxford Street. This was incredibly helpful, because David Baxter’s prospective clock shop was to be on 12 Oxford Street, and therefor an easy walk for Thomas and Jimmy to handle. The notorious Wright family had several businesses on Wardour street at numbers 22, 23, 26, 134, and 144. It was affectively an anent. There were far too many antique shops in the area for Wardour’s own good, but that was hardly the end of it. Why, at number 157 Monsieur Georges Chanot the third had an opulent violin shop where one could have a custom tailored instrument made for their own devices. Wardour had a relatively small lane for a street, and their taxi was pressed in on all sides by other cars parked out front of shops. A few well dressed women in furs and jewels were hassling some lower class boys to load a massive antique frame into the back of a moving truck. Danny poked his head out, watching as they argued over where to place the frame and how to strap it down. Thomas kept his eyes peeled for number 36, the home he’d worked so hard to achieve and waited so long to know. He felt like a child opening a present on Christmas morning, like the fairy tales of youth were somehow all based on fact now. 

When he finally saw the building, he was not disappointed. 

36 Wardour street was a brick building connected on the hip to 34, a Café Marquee that seemed to sell fresh baked goods judging by the smells wafting out the glass front door. On the other hip, she was connected to a record shop named Dorset Place which seemed to be packed with flappers. They were spilling out onto the streets, vinyls in their manicured hands as they chatted and shared a patisserie from Café Marquee. 

36 Wardour Street itself was akin to its neighbors. Two storied with glass front windows on the bottom floor, she boasted several high windows on the top devoid of curtains and dark. She seemed to have flower boxes, and Thomas internally delighted himself at the prospect of being able to plant something with Jimmy. Maybe herbs for their kitchen, of even daisies. 36 Wardour Street was not opulent nor grand. She did not have high arched windows or marble face work like Downton, she did not have the cozy cottage feeling of the Bates residence. But in that moment, as Thomas observed her for the first time, she was the most beautiful building he’d ever seen. Everything from her side drain to her slanted roof made his heart swell, and as their taxi pulled over to the side to park Thomas had to force himself not to jump out of the cab. He paid the driver while Jimmy clambered out, pulling their valises with him and helping Danny to hop onto the pavement as Thomas finally shuffled his way out and onto the street. 

It was at that moment that Jimmy was assaulted by a blue and black blur of a woman wearing pearls down to her waist. 

_“Jimmaaaaaay!”_ the woman shrieked at the top of her voice, practically leaping atop him and flattening him as she squeezed him in a merciless vice like grip. Thomas might have been keen to punch her in the mouth had he taken her actions for assault, but Jimmy was grinning blissfully as he hugged his newfound companion- as if they were the grandest of friends who'd not seen one another in a century. 

“Oh, my sweet baby I’ve missed you!” The woman cried out, and Thomas wondered at first if she was mentally unstable for how boisterous and unpredictable she was. But when she pulled back to regard Jimmy with bright keen eyes, Thomas finally saw clearly that she wasn’t mad. She was confident. 

She was black, probably in her early thirties and clearly well off. She wore the latest fashion, an oriental blue flapper dress hand beaded with generous scalloped tiers of fringe that flowed to the hem. Her pearls dripped around her neck several times, a massive long strand that clicked and swung- she even boasted a white headband over a hump of curled black hair. Her beaded white handbag swung upon her arm as she smiled into Jimmy’s hair, pulling back on more time to beam at him. Her lips were rouged, her eyes lined with khol. Here was a woman of the 20th century, unafraid to be modern or different. 

Thomas couldn’t shake the feeling that surely he’d seen her somewhere before. 

“Oh look at you!" She cupped Jimmy’s face momentarily in gloved hands before pulling back to see the full of him. Everything from his blue vest to his gray scarf and newscap, “Look at you! Jimmy, I know you could do it," She said with such fierce pride, “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it. I knew you could open your heart, and look-!” 

Thomas had been spotted, Danny hiding beneath his arm, and the woman gasped with keen and clear delight as she looked him up and down. 

Where had he seen this woman before? And why didn’t she have a sense of personal boundaries? 

“Are you Thomas Barrow?” She asked, eagerly, both hands jumping up to her mouth to cover her jeweled lips. 

“I am.” Thomas said. He might as well have told the brigade to fire for how the woman charged out of the gun, leaping upon him to hug him tightly around the neck. 

“Oh baby!” She seemed overcome with joy in that moment, hugging him as tightly as if he were her son home from war, “Oh baby, oh-!” 

“Elvira Sellars." Jimmy explained over the woman’s shoulder, and Thomas gaped at the realization that this was the woman who would be teaching him how to sing. “The’s the main singer in Jack’s band, and his mol.” 

And suddenly Thomas knew exactly where he’d seen Elvira before. It had been a muggy night, rainy after Rose’s wedding in London. Mrs. Hughes had just confronted him about his shoddy behavior, prompting a quick escape by him out to a park that lined the streets. Daisy had followed him confused, but the pair of them had been interrupted by Jimmy passing with a band. 

Elvira had been there, had wanted “Jim” to introduce her to his friend. No wonder Elvira didn't have a sense of personal boundaries. She was close to Jimmy and had clearly missed him. 

Elvira pulled back, black eyes twinkling with joy as she inspected Thomas’ face. Thomas wondered what Jimmy had told her, what Elvira already knew, as she pulled back even more to let her hands run down his arms and squeeze his elbows fondly. 

“Ducky, I have waited an age and a day to meet you.” Elvira declared with a wide and truthful smile, “I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you at last.” 

Thomas tried for a smile but found it fumbling and blushing, completely befuddled at being embraced by a stranger on a packed street. Too long Thomas had been a stranger to affection. Now as an adult, he didn’t know how to register it. How to receive it. Sometimes it was difficult even with Jimmy, to imagine that Jimmy actually loved him and wasn't just having him on. 

“I-“ Thomas spluttered, unsure of what to say to such a vibrant and sincere woman, “I mean- that’s very kind-“ 

“So modest and handsome.” She complimented him with a smug smile, hitting a little with her hand loose upon his arm, “You got a brother?” she asked. 

“Dead." Thomas admitted, thoughts jumping to a photograph of a surly man in uniform with dark and angry eyes. Elvira took it in her stride, not put off in the slightest as she pulled back even further to embrace Jimmy around the neck. 

“Ah well," She rolled her eyes to Jimmy who beamed at her, “That is a shame.” 

“She thinks she’s funny.” Came a hard English drawl, and Thomas was amazed to be confronted by a black man in a handsome tan double breasted jacket and trilby. Thomas knew immediately who this man was, slinking from the front face of 36 Wardour Street to extend a hand warmly for Thomas to shake. He was just as confident as his mol, a man of class and dignity that few could emulate without botching. Jack Ross left no room for false impressions. 

“Mr. Barrow.” Jack gave him a smart short smile, “It's very good to see you again.” 

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Ross.” Thomas commended him, for here was the man who had given him so much, freely. Happily. How was Ross to know that the flat he'd bestowed upon Thomas and Jimmy was worth its weight in gold to both of them? A life where they could be free, “Truly. I can’t begin to convey my gratitude.” 

“Please.” Jack silenced him with a wave of the hand, “There’s no need. We're about to make a killing with Jimmy back in the band. We’ve hit the big time, and we need our piano man." 

“And!” Elvira added with a finger waggling at Thomas, “Our backup singer! I need a new voice for duets-! We two are gonna kill it.” 

An absolute terror jumped inside of Thomas at the thought of having to contend with Elvira as a duet singer. She would floor him with ease, her confidence and beauty flattening him into the rug before he even opened his mouth. 

“Aha, well-“ Thomas spluttered, coughing a little as he clutched Danny closer to his side, “I need some training first-“ 

“Oh ducky,” Elvira said affectionately, “Don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of everything.” but she’d spotted Danny as Thomas ran a hand affectionately through his curly brown hair. Nervous, Danny hid his face in Thomas’ trousers, “And who’s this sweet boy?” 

“Danny, be smart.” Thomas urged gently, pulling back a little so that Danny was forced to pick up his head. Nervous, Danny clutched Nan to his chest looking very unsure indeed as Elvira squatted down to smile sweetly at him. 

“This is Daniel Baxter." Thomas explained to Jack, who nodded in knowing from their phone conversation, “My sister’s child. He’s going to be staying with us for just a little bit. His family are buying a clock shop on Oxford street. When they get settled, he’ll be moving back over.” 

“Aw, you sweet thing.” Elvira doted, causing Danny to blush as he hid in Thomas’ trousers again. Thomas doubted Danny had ever seen anyone as beautiful as Elvira- though he supposed Margret was just as lovely. Then again, he might have been the tiniest bit biased. “Don’t be scared, ducky. I don’t bite. I have a boy named Louis that’s about your age, you two are gonna hit it off like a house on fire.” 

Thomas noted that Elvira used the French version of the name ‘Louis’ and wondered why. As Elvira straightened up again, Jack fished around in his trench coat pocket to pull forth two brass keys on a hook. He handed a set to both Jimmy and Thomas, who accepted them. 

“This is the key to the front door.” Jack explained, “Try not to lose them, we’ve got some pretty hot equipment inside.” 

Jack stepped to the door, and the rest followed. Jimmy took two valises, Thomas grasping the third as he held Danny's hand with the other. Under the alcove of 36 Wardour Street, Jack unlocked their front door to let them inside, and Thomas was immediately overtaken by the smell of incense and gin. 

The recording studio was comprised of a solitary broad room packed with music equipment. An upright piano sat adjacent to the high front windows, which Jimmy had a bee line to and immediately tested out the keys. There was also a bandstand, complete with a set of drums and several cases which looked like they might house brass instruments. There were several microphones upon an elevated stage, which was carpeted, and all about the circular rise there were pieces of equipment on high tables that Thomas didn’t fully understand. He could gather that this was an area to make music in, obviously to record… but golly if he knew how it all worked. There were enough wires strewn across the wooden floor to make a fire hazard. On the far wall lay a staircase slipping out of sight to the second floor. Thomas eyed it hopefully, the sounds of three chord jazz filtering through the room as Jimmy piddled upon his piano. 

“She’s sounding fine!” Jimmy said, pleased. 

“Had her tuned just for your home coming.” Elvira said, and there was clear love in her voice as she wrapped an arm around Jimmy's back and hugged him to her chest. She ruffled his hair fondly, “You’re going to catch a fish without a hook!" 

In gusto, Jimmy spanked out a sharp sweet chord. Elvira laughed enthusiastically. 

"This space is huge!" Jimmy spun about on his swivel seat, looking across the broad floor and all the recording equipment it contained, “How did you get it?” 

“Flower shop went out of business.” Jack explained, taking off his trilby hat and double breasted coat to hang in on a hatstand by the door. A sign hung next to it that read, “GET HOT! GET HOT!” in painted red letters. “Place down the street sold em out.” Jack stepped around his mass of recording equipment to head to the far back wall where an enormous wastebasket full of glass bottles sat waiting. This was clearly the source of both the smell of gin and incense. Several dishes were laid about, blackened with tar from heated scents. He rifled through his glass bottles, aimless, “Went to the auction and nabbed her. Bet you want to see your new home?" 

“Yes!” Jimmy proclaimed, all but leaping off his stool as he snatched up their valises again. Elvira and Jimmy headed for the stairs with Thomas right behind. Even Danny looked mildly curious now, poking his head about though he did not stray from Thomas’ side. The four of them ascended the stairs, with Jack bringing up the rear. The door to the second floor was made of broad oak, solid and sturdy with a simple landing at the top step. For all the promise she beckoned, this could be the gates of heaven. Thomas half expected Saint Peter to be on the other side, demanding an answer of moral truth for access. 

“So-“ Jack nudged his way through, elbowing Jimmy out of the way to show them another set of significantly smaller brass keys, “These are the keys to your flat.” He handed them both to Jimmy and Thomas separately. Thomas observed it, the beauty of a single brass item and the joy it would bring into his life. His heart was beginning to pound in his chest for joy. “They're officially yours now. Even I don’t have a key to this landing.” 

“Good!” Jimmy chirped, shoving his key into the lock, “I like me privacy!”

“Believe me,” Jack snorted, “I don't want to barge in on you two.” 

At this, Elvira started up again, tittering sweetly as she nudge Jimmy impatiently in the rubs. 

“Jimmy!” She teased, “Got yourself a man!” 

“Oh my god, Elvira!” Jimmy moaned, red in the face as he nudged her off, “Will you quit?" 

“Ducky, I knew you were going to bust out when you got to Yorkshire! You saved your man and brought him home! Sign me up for the next valeting position!” Elvira teased mercilessly. Jimmy looked ready to keel over, groaning into his hand with the key still in the lock. 

“I’m going to throw himself down the stairs.” Jimmy grumbled. 

“It won’t do you any good.” Jack warned him, “She’ll only follow you down.”   
Seeing the way Elvira kept poking and teasing Jimmy, Thomas had to agree. 

Eager to get away from Elvira and her incessant teasing, Jimmy forced the key and lock open, jerking the door wide so that it finally swung free into the flat beyond. 

And oh, the view it gave them. 

Thomas and Jimmy stepped up and in as one, in synch with one another in that important moment as they laid eyes for the first time upon their home. 

Their home opened onto a broad entertaining space, with a simple fireplace and mantel on the far left wall and a set of un-curtained windows to the back. A slight wall lay to the right, opening up only a little ahead to clearly lead into the kitchen and dining space which seemed to be squashed together. Ahead of them lay a darkened hallway, that turned eventually to the left leading up and out of sight. At its far end was a wooden door. Surely this was the way to the bedrooms and wash room. 

Jimmy gasped, his voice soft upon the air as he looked about in childlike wonderment. The flat, just as Jack had warned, was completely bare of furniture but this did not bother Jimmy nor Thomas in the slightest. If anything it just made the flat easier to clean (though heaven knows it did need a sweeping). There was a layer of dust on everything, and grime upon the windows. Jimmy whirled about beaming at Thomas, and Thomas grinned back.

They were home. 

“Oh Thomas…” Jimmy whispered, as if it were only the two of them and Elvira and Jack were not standing next to them, “This is ours.” He turned back around, stepping hastily into the entertainment space as if making to strike up a dance. He whirled about, “This is ours!” He proclaimed loudly, as jubilant as an angel in a heavenly choir. Thomas almost wanted to shout ‘amen’ back. 

Jimmy ran to the window, looking out onto the street below, “Oh!" Jimmy exclaimed with joy, “We can see the whole street. It's beautiful!” 

Jimmy jumped about, but then bolted into the kitchen. Thomas had to follow at a hot pace, with Danny trailing off after them. Nan drug on the ground at his side as he gaped about the room. 

The kitchen was a rectangular room, opening on a counter which wrapped all the way to the far left wall where it stopped at the door to a pantry. It encumbered a sink, as well as several cupboards which lay over her. On the opposite wall lay both a four range stove and a refrigerator, which amazed Jimmy as he yanked it open to see it was bare inside save for a few glass bottles of ale. To the right of the kitchen opening was clearly room for a table and dining chairs though nothing lay there now. On the far wall was another set of windows, just like its brothers in the entertaining room. 

“We have a stove!" Jimmy proclaimed. Thomas reached out to examine it, finding it in good working order though it could stand with a cleaning. “And a refrigerator!” 

“That’s my doing." Jack explained with a gentle smile. Elvira walked about, her heels clicking on the wood as she took off one of her gloves to run her hand upon the counter. She pulled back, observing the grime on her dark fingertips and grimaced at Thomas. 

Thomas smirked as Elvira put her glove back on, sniffing snootily at the state Jack had left the apartment in. 

“I thought it would be small compensation since I essentially stole all your furniture.” Jack explained with a small sad smile, “My mother came to live with me and Elvira- she’s not doing too well and my brother can’t support her lifestyle.” 

Elvira made a face at Jimmy, who sniggered. Clearly there was some animosity there. 

“Sod it.” Jimmy snorted, “We'll just get all our own stuff.” 

He was insatiable in his curiosity, opening each cupboard to see what it held inside. There were a few things- some canned goods and bottles of olive oil. Jimmy headed over to the far door, opening it to reveal a pantry. It was cramped but would do quite nicely. They were hardly staffing a need like Downton Abbey. 

“We have a pantry!" Jimmy said giddily, passing Thomas as he headed back out into the entertainment area. He took a hard right, heading down the darkened hallway, and Thomas followed at once lest he be left behind. Even with the light streaming in from the front windows, it was difficult to see. As they hit the door at the far end of the hall, Jimmy opened it at once to see that it was in fact a washroom equipped with sink, mirror, lavatory, and tub. It even had its own little pantry, though it was barely more than a few cupboards squashed together. On the far wall lay one little window, streaming light in to illuminate every filthy counter. 

“Oh wow…” Jimmy gloated over his shoulder to Thomas, who headed for the window to see that it looked out onto a back alley full of laundry lines. Linens flapped in the morning air, like clouds on wires, “Look at that tub! That’s all ours.” but suddenly Jimmy gaped, eyes flying wide as he spluttered. “Oh god.” 

Thomas was almost nervous, worried Jimmy was about to be ill from over excitement till Jimmy said in a keen rush, “The bedroom.” To bolt from the bathroom entirely and back out into the hall. Elvira and Jack and followed, Danny between them as he stumbled in the darkened hallway. 

Just as Thomas had imagined, the hallway upon turning left opened to another long stretch. Three doors lay here, one to the left, one to the right, and one dead head. The one dead ahead was opened, revealing itself to be yet another pantry with high shelves and a coat rack. 

“Which one is the master bedroom?” Jimmy demanded of Jack, who was groping along the wall to find the light switch for the darkened hallway. He found it, but upon clicking it the lightbulb fuzed out overhead with a soft sputtering spark. Jack rolled his eyes, hardly surprised as he said, “the one on the right” to Jimmy. 

Jimmy was upon the door in a heartbeat, wrenching it open to stream light into their darkened hallway. For a moment Thomas was captivated by the image of Jimmy in wonder, face illuminated against the dark as he beamed at their bedroom. Thomas couldn’t have explained how beautiful Jimmy was in that moment if he had thirty years to do it. In a way, that image captured everything Thomas so adored about Jimmy… his ability to shed light in the darkest of places. His opening of new doors in Thomas’ life. His insatiable curiosity. 

“Oh Thomas…” Jimmy whispered, stepping inside. 

Thomas followed at once. 

The bedroom was far bigger than Thomas had expected, with an added surprise of a cramped veranda opening from two sliding doors to show their very own laundry lines which were bare in the early winter breeze. They let in an enormous amount of light, so that despite the hallway being pitch black the bedroom was quite bright. Here there lay a massive mattress upon the floor, tucked against the far left wall to stick out in the middle of the room. There was an oil lamp by her head, and a massive oak wardrobe at her feet which was flourished at the top with a celtic knot. Thomas opened it to find that it was bare, but boasted a large coat rack and several furnished drawers to put everything from ties to socks. 

Jimmy opened the door to the veranda, slowly stepping out into the chilly air beyond. He twirled, coat flapping in the breeze as he reached up to pluck at the rusted laundry lines. Danny took it upon himself to test out the mattress, plonking down to bounce upon its springs. 

“It’s bouncy!” Danny declared giddily, newscap flying off as he jumped. Thomas set down Danny’s valise inside the door, smiling with a sense of odd relief as he stepped around the mattress and out onto the brick veranda. It was cold outside, and Thomas tucked his hands into his pockets to feel his two keys. A brick ledge wrapped around the edge of the veranda, coming up to their waists. Thomas looked over the side to see that it plummeted straight into the alley below where a few children were playing with a football, screaming as they kicked it back and forth. Across the way, eye level with Thomas and Jimmy, a Chinese woman put out a large damp quilt over her laundry lines. Thomas waved to her, and she waved back sparking a keen sense of joy in Thomas' heart. 

Yes, they would do nicely here. 

“Look how big the bed is.” Jimmy grinned, stepping back into the bedroom to get out of the cold air. Thomas followed at once, shutting the sliding doors behind them to lock them for good measure. “Queen size.” 

“My mother didn’t want it when she found out I had a king in storage.” Jack admitted, another guilty grimace flitting across his face. Elvira just rolled her eyes, unsurprised. “I’m sorry.” 

“We’ve been sleeping on singles all our lives.” Thomas assured Jack at once, eye the enormous size of the bed with delight. 

“And under pianos.” Jimmy added saucily. 

“Don’t apologize, for gods sake.” Thomas finished. 

Jimmy looked over his shoulder and back out the windows onto the veranda. The Chinese woman had finished hanging her quilt and was now smoking a cigarette watching her children play below in the street. 

“S’beautiful.” Jimmy voice his opinion softly, “Truly.” 

Thomas agreed with all his heart. 

“The last bedroom is the smaller one.” Jack explained, and all five of them stepped back out into the darkened hallway to open the door onto the final room. It was another rectangular room, completely bare of furniture though it did have a skylight overhead which lit it up nicely. Thomas wondered if one would be able to see the stars through the glass at night. 

“Daniel,” Thomas addressed his nephew as he poked his head into the bare room, “Would you like to sleep in here?” 

“I dunno," Danny admitted, none too sure, “There's no furniture! How can I sleep in here with no furniture?” 

God help him if he didn’t have a point. Thomas rubbed his jaw, worriedly as he caught Jimmy’s eyes over his shoulder. 

“I dunno if we have enough for furniture yet.” Jimmy murmured softly. They’d brought their savings, combined together a total of thirty pounds. It would be all they owned till they made bank with Jack’s band, and even then there were bills to pay. Living in London could be incredibly expensive. Thomas ran a hand through his hair, looking back into Danny’s prospective room. 

This was no place for a child. It was filthy, dark, and bare. 

“Ducky, don’t you worry!” Elvira urged Jimmy, “We'll take him!” 

"Will we?" Jack asked, his lips pursed at Elvira’s enthusiasm without his consultation. At Thomas’ knees, Danny looked up, amazed. 

_Are you really going to let me go with them?_ he seemed to be wondering. Thomas stroked his hair softly. 

“Louis would love a playmate, don't even pretend-“ Elvira warned Jack with a finger in his face, “And if you’re extra sweet I’ll make you a chocolate raspberry cake!” Elvira added to Danny, whose eyes lit up at the mention of the notorious ‘c’ word. "Would you like that?” 

 

“Yes!" Danny proclaimed, modesty long gone at the prospect of sweets. 

“You had to mention the ‘c’ word,” muttered Thomas who was certain he'd never hear the end of it now. 

“Cake, cake, cake!” Was Elvira’s reply, causing Danny to bounce around on his heels as he beamed up at Thomas Jimmy. 

“Pretty please?!” Danny begged, “Uncle Thomas- please!” 

“Well-“ Thomas sighed, looking about the room and back to Jimmy whose handsome face was itching with a smile, “We don't have any furniture in here, and we really need to clean the place up. So I don’t see how we can do otherwise.” 

“We’ll hold down the fort and get it ready for you.” Jimmy assured Danny, “How about hat?” 

“And in the meantime, cake?!” Danny begged. 

“Cake it is!" Elvira proclaimed. Jack sighed, rolling his eyes heavily. Thomas felt very sorry for him, now having to contend with two small children hyper on cake, not to mention Elvira. 

“I’m so sorry, Jack-“ Thomas said, but Jack cut him off with a shrug, closing the door to Danny’s future room. 

“It’s fine." Jack assured him, and he seemed sincere despite his earlier grumblings, “Really, Louis is going to bounce for joy when he finds out he’s got not only a playmate but a chance at cake out of all of this. I’m just tired because I know I’m going to have to contend with them when they get hyper.” 

“Oh don’t be sour.” Elvira warned. They made their way back out into the entertainment room, Jimmy staring into their bedroom with longing as they passed, “Your son loves playing with you-" 

"And my instruments-“ Jack muttered under his breath. Elvira just turned on her heel, glaring triumphantly at him with pure motherly ferocity. 

“And how lucky you are!” She declared confidently, “Danny, don't listen to this grumpy man.” Elvira assured Danny, who had now drifted away from Thomas' side to hers, clearly deciding she was an ally in all of this, “He’s just angry because he values a trumpet more than his son’s play time.” 

“I value it.” Jack corrected her at once, “I just don’t want it in the same area. So-!” With that he turned, smacking his hands together and rubbing them vigorously. It was still slightly cold, even inside away from the wind, "Are you good and settled?” 

“If you could-“ Thomas beseeched him, “Where's a good place to get groceries in the area?” 

“Also washing?" Jimmy added at Thomas’ side, taking off his newscap at long last to ruffle his blonde curly hair. 

“Right-“ Thomas agreed, “How do we contend with either?” 

“Well, as a matter of fact, you're in luck.” Jack explained, “About a block down on the left there’s a grocery store. It’s small but it's fresh, and they have a general store to the left of them that’ll sell you what you can’t find. Everything here is very local. As for washing, there is a washing place down the opposite way to the right but it’s crammed and expensive. You’re in luck because since this placed used to be a flower shop there’s already a very small Thor washer employees used to use. It’s in the back downstairs, but you can bring it out from storage and set her up. She’s electric!" 

“You’re kidding!" Jimmy gaped, amazed at their luck. Even Thomas was impressed, though he'd never used a washer in his life and wondered how he’d fare, “I’ve never used one before, this’ll be the bee’s knees!” 

“We'll figure it out.” Thomas assured, “Thank you, Jack-" 

“Don’t thank me.” Jack shrugged with an easy smile, "I didn’t put it there but I'm glad that you’ve got one.” 

“I’ll show you how to use it.” Elvira assured them, “We've got one at home. Works wonders-!" 

“Can we go to your house soon?” Danny asked eagerly. 

“Look who’s coming out of his shell!” Elvira chortled, amazed at Danny’s suddenly keen attitude change, “You bet we can. Your uncles have lots of work to do, cleaning and fixing.” She glanced up, winking saucily at Jimmy, “You love birds have to build your nest.” 

“Stop…” Jimmy groaned, grin falling at once. Elvira did not stop. 

“Jimmy!” She ribbed again, reaching out to scratch at his arm with manicured nails. She was beaming again, “I’m so happy for you! You’ve got your man-!” 

“Elvira!” Jimmy begged, turning red once again, “Stop it!” 

“She heckles him because she loves him.” Jack assured Thomas, who couldn't help but smirk at the nonsense, “She was right lonely without her golden son. We were all screaming when Jimmy sent us a letter explaining he'd broken up your engagement and snagged you for himself.” 

“He saved my life.” Thomas agreed, wondering at how loud Elvira must have shrieked when she’d learned that Jimmy had ‘gotten his man’. Yet all this talk of romance had caused Thomas’ mind to go for a dark dive as he recalled the end of his disastrous engagement to Daisy and all that it had cost him. Pursing his lips, he jerked his head, and Jack followed him into the kitchen as Elvira and Jimmy continued to heckle one another with Danny squashed between. 

Thomas stepped just a little out of sight, bringing up his gloved hand to eye level so that Jack could see he was obviously missing a pinky. 

“About me performing, did Jimmy mention at all an accident… with my father?” Thomas asked. 

"No." Jack said, brow furrowing at the sight of Thomas' mangled hand. 

“My father is not exactly a forgiving man." Thomas explained, though that hardly did the volatile situation justice. He took off his glove, showing Jack the full extent of the damage. Jack hissed appreciatively at the raw red nub of Thomas’ pinky and the wide scar across his palm where he’d been shot in the Somme. “I’m worried this’ll put an audience off-" 

“Not really.”Jack shrugged, “You’ll have a glove on, and most girls will lose their blouse for that. They’ll think your brave.” 

“Hardly.” Thomas muttered, slipping his glove to button it up before Danny could see. “I don’t want you to lose business.” 

Jack gave him an appreciative smile, “We won’t." he assured him, “Don’t worry, we're a hot commodity. We’ve got a Duke’s birthday in less than a week, and we’re already booked for six months solid after that. Trust me, we're not going to lose customers just because you lost a finger." 

“Well." Thomas shrugged, “As you say." 

“Just so you know.” Jack added, “There’s an antique shop down on the right at the corner that sells furniture. I told them to expect you. I said that you were brothers. I know I wrote that you would be right at home but…” Jack trailed off, his voice soft. 

Thomas nodded. He imagined Jack, as a black man in a modernizing London, might have some experience with prejudice himself. If anyone understood their situation, it was him. 

“I understand.” Thomas assured him. 

“They're going to give you a discount." Jack added, trying to steer their private conversation onto happier territory, “We did business about a month or so ago, so we're in good standing. Tell them you’re with me.” 

“I will.” And at this Thomas shook Jack's hand again. Clearly he was a man who knew how to conduct business, “Thank you.” 

“If that’s it then we’d best be heading on. You two have work to do.” Jack declared. He clapped Thomas on the shoulder, then stepped back out into the entertaining space to say, “Danny! How’d you like to come home with us and eat cake?” 

“I’d like it very much Mr. Jack Ross sir!” Danny said at once, grabbing onto Elvira’s hand with glee. 

“Daniel!” Thomas’ tone took a slightly sharp turn, catching Danny's attention at once. Thomas was rarely ever cross with him. “Best behavior.” Thomas warned with a finger up. Danny nodded, blue eyes wide, “Don’t give me a reason to ask this man for forgiveness. He’s given your uncle and I a great deal with very little asked in return. We owe this man our happiness and our freedom. Show him your utmost respect. Am I understood?” 

“Yes sir.” Danny said at once, eyes wide with knowing. 

“Very good.” Thomas smile became warm, and he dropped his finger at once, “Have fun." 

“You and Jack go down and hail a cab.” Elvira urged, passing Danny off to Jack who took his hand to head for the stairs. “I’ll be right there-" 

“Oh look, Danny-“ Jack quipped, stooping over to pick Danny up off the floor and put him on his hip, Danny held onto Nan tightly, looking over Jack’s shoulder as he waved goodbye to Thomas and Jimmy. Jimmy waved goodbye back, winking. “This is the part where she does shady dealings behind my back.” 

“Shady? Me?” Elvira demanded, her voice rising in protest. “Never.” 

Jack left, taking Danny with him, but against her word as soon as Jack was out of sight Elvira was grinning impishly to reach into her handbag. 

“Boys,” Elvira smirked, “Mummy has a surprise for you.” 

“Is it gin?!” Jimmy asked hopefully. Elvira’s smirk turned sour. 

“No!” She snapped, her tone becoming reprimanding for the first time as Jimmy wilted underneath her burning stare, “You need to dry up before you drown." She added with great wisdom. Thomas had to admit she had a damn good point. She pulled an envelope out of her handbag, snapping it shut as she waved it in front of their faces, “Last gig we did was a business celebration, two tycoons merging on Saville Row that wanted to spoil their families. You two weren't there but… I put some aside for you.” 

She handed the envelope to Jimmy, who took it excitedly to open it up. An enormous amount of money was inside, and he gasped in delight as he pulled it out to count it. Thomas’ jaw dropped, shocked at the amount-! 

“No, we couldn’t!” Thomas could hardly believe Elvira’s generosity, even with her clear adoration of Jimmy, “We didn’t earn this-!” 

"Don't slap the hand that offers you a sweet, Mr. Barrow.” Elvira tittered with a smile, “I love my Jimmy- I want to spoil him. I have two babies.” she explained, “Louis and Jimmy.” 

“You’re going to have three before the night is through if you give Daniel cake.” Thomas joked, amazed at Elvira. She just winked. 

“Fifty pounds…” Jimmy gushed. Thomas could have choked on his tongue- fifty pounds?! That was more than Carson made in a year! 

“You use that to get this place spruced up.” Elvira explained, “I want to see it first when you’re done, deal?” 

“Deal!” Jimmy bounded forward, making Elvira burst out with a gay little laugh as he picked her right up off the floor to spin her around. Her blue fringe fluttered in the air. “Mm, I missed you.” He sighed, putting her back down to hug her again. Elvira just smiled into his golden hair. 

"I missed you my sweet boy.” She said, and Thomas could tell she was incredibly sincere. By god if he wasn’t getting just the slightest bit jealous, “Alright now-“ She pulled back, pinching Jimmy’s cheek as she headed for the stairwell and the door, “I'd best be off before Jack books another gig with the taxi driver. Duckies he’s a business man!" She laughed. “Tata!” she waved, twiddling her gloved fingers in the air as she closed the door behind her. 

“Thank you, Elvira!” Jimmy boomed after her, grinning from ear to ear as he clutched their newfound boon to his chest, “I love you!” 

He looked down, rifling through the money again, “Oh this is perfect! We can put our savings aside and use this money instead.” 

“God, that's a lot of money…” Thomas muttered, taking the envelope from Jimmy to recount it just to be positive of the amount. Sure enough, there was fifty pounds in his hounds- an entire years salary and then some for a man who belonged to the working class. Thomas could barely breath for his amazement. 

“This is what we make!” Jimmy was practically giddy, bouncing about their newfound flat to stir up dust and dirt where ever he walked, “This is our bank! the year before I left I made four hundred pounds-!” 

“Four hundred pounds!?” Thomas shrieked, unable to help himself. Jimmy just grinned. But this made absolutely no sense, for Jimmy had arrived at Downton with barely twenty in savings- Thomas shook his head, irritated. “How the hell did you go from four hundred pounds to less than twenty? Where did you blow it all? Bars?” 

Jimmy tittered, slightly embarrassed as he scratched the back of his head. Thomas shook his head, far from surprised. 

“We’re not doing the same, you realize that, right?” Thomas grumbled as he put their money in his pocket. 

“Right, but a little gamblin’ is okay, surely!” Jimmy tried for a cheery smile, but Thomas shook his head. Jimmy frowned, suddenly quite put out. 

“Not until we’re set up better.” Thomas urged, remembering his late mother’s wise words. 

“Thomas!” Jimmy groaned, “You’ve got fifty pounds in your pocket! You wanna tell me we're not set up when we only came here with thirty between us?” 

Thomas shook his head again, “We’ll use the thirty we brought to get set up, and put the fifty in savings.” 

Jimmy scoffed, dismayed, “What?!” He demanded with another groan, “Oh come on!” 

“Jimmy, I’m serious." Thomas beseeched, eager for them not to have an argument five minutes into living together, “We have to play this smart. It’s Contra Mundum not Mundi, now. Money doesn't grow from trees. What if something happens to us? What if the economy goes flat? What if we lose everything? You gotta be smart about this Jimmy-.” 

“Oh so now I’m dumb?” Jimmy grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He moved over to the window, looking out onto the street below. Thomas came up behind him, an in an act to bridge Jimmy’s disgruntled distance he wrapped his arms around Jimmy's waist and pulled him out of eye shot of the streets below lest someone see. Burying his face in Jimmy’s hair, he murmured into his ear as soft and low as he pleased. 

“You’re excited.” Thomas corrected him, kissing him tenderly upon the temple, “And I’m excited too. We’re home and you want to spruce it up. I want to spruce it up too… but I want to keep you safe as well. We can get furniture in time. We don’t have to buy everything in one day. Yeah?” He pulled back to gently kiss Jimmy again. 

For a moment it carried on, Thomas holding Jimmy and kissing him upon the neck and temple. Then, at last, Jimmy sighed, melting into his embrace to drop his arms from his chest. He reached behind him, feeling for Thomas, squeezing as his coat. 

“Okay." Jimmy still sounded relatively put up, but consoled at least. 

“There’s a bakery next to us.” Thomas whispered into his hair, “Let’s go see if they’ve got sandwiches.” 

Jimmy nodded, pulling away as if making to leave for the door, but Thomas grabbed him again and drug him back to wrap him up even tighter. He could feel Jimmy fighting back a grin, and sought to overcome him, kissing him at the corner of his mouth till Jimmy was smiling blissfully. Thomas chased that smile, turning Jimmy around in his arms to take his face in his hands- he kissed Jimmy as sweetly as he pleased, no longer having to hide nor listen out for the sound of approaching footsteps. 

My god, what a time to be alive. 

“Hey.” Thomas murmured into Jimmy's lips, pulling back a little so that they could grin at one another, "I love you, and I cannot wait to build my life with you…” Jimmy nodded, blissful, “But I want us to have a safety net, okay?" 

“Contra mundum.” Jimmy mumbled, and with that he kissed Thomas again. 

“That’s the spirit.” Thomas agreed, words muffled against Jimmy’s sweet lips. 

 

The pair of them headed out soon after, seeking out the Café Marquee next door and the menu it offered. They were pleased to find it was coupled into a bakery, where one might buy fresh loaves of bread if they pleased along with pastries, quiches, and bottles of freshly squeezed lemonade. They even had soda water, though it was slightly costly. Excited, Jimmy and Thomas celebrated, dining on sandwiches and soda before heading out to the general store down the street to see what it could offer them. Before they left, they introduced themselves to the owner of the café. She was an older Scottish woman whose accent distinctly reminded Thomas of Mrs. Hughes. Her name was Ms. Macpherson and she seemed pleased to have new neighbors as she offered them a bottle of fresh lemonade on the house. 

The general store down the street was oddly bare of customers despite the noon hour on a packed street- clearly Wardour was more of a business avenue than a living area. Thomas and Jimmy had the run of the place, buying a mass of cleaning supplies that they would desperately need including a scrubbing brush, a handful of cleaning rags, carbolic soap, and washing soda crystals. Upon being pestered by the elderly shop keeper as to what exactly they were doing with a bottle of lemonade and a basket full of cleaning supplies, they were likewise advised to buy a copper kettle and wash bin. They likewise bought a broom, dustpan, and a bag of coal for the fireplace causing them to be utterly laden as they toddled their way back up the street to their new flat. Thomas had to make two trips, for by the end of it Jimmy was eager to get started cleaning and already sweeping. Their time as servants had conditioned them to hard work, and as the day wore on they stopped only for tea and supper. First they swept, then they washed, each counter and floor sparkling by the end as their newly bought rags threw filthy. The commandeered lemonade was easily polished off by the pair of them as they shed their jackets and vests to work in rolled shirt sleeves. It did not help that Jimmy got distracted flicking soapy water at Thomas, resulting in a near squabble as they rolled about the freshly cleaned floor screaming with laughter. 

Needless to say by the end of it they were absolutely filthy, and the antique shop was shrugged off for tomorrow after they’d had a bath and a good night's sleep. Despite being filthy the pair of them trudged back out for dinner, fetching fish and chips from a local pub (The Big Dipper) down the street that didn’t seem to mind their sour appearance. As they returned home and locked up shop for the last time that night, Thomas and Jimmy sequestered themselves in their new bedroom to light the oil lamp that proved to be their only light. It was chilly in their bedroom, even with a fire now going in their living room, and the pair of them ate on the floor like heathens at the base of their new bed. 

Thomas had a cigarette afterwards, sharing it with Jimmy as he began to put away their valises. Coats and jackets could easily be put up in their wardrobe, but toiletries stayed in the valise with no bureau to put them on. Thomas regarded his face in a hand held mirror from his valise, noting that he needed a shave before he could leave the house the next morning. It would not do to go to the antique store looking like a heathen. Jimmy slid his valise underneath the bottom of the wardrobe, a tidy place to put it despite the plethora of space they had at the moment. It would not last long when they had proper furniture. 

Thomas watched Jimmy unpack, and wondered what he was thinking. Wondered at what fantastical thoughts were spinning through that perfect mind. 

Wondered if he knew how much Thomas adored him. 

~*~

Jimmy felt very accomplished indeed as he finally succeeded in putting his entire valise away. His toiletries had no home for a moment, so he put them in a drawer just for safe keeping until they got a bureau. After their hard work that day, Jimmy was exhausted and knew that despite having no pillow nor blanket he would sleep good. One day he was certain he’d look back on his flat with Thomas and remember a time when they'd had no furniture and only a bottle of lemonade to share between them. Maybe they’d laugh, in a flat full of furniture with a packed fridge. 

Maybe they’d be living in a slum and long for the days. Jimmy shuddered at the thought. Thank god Thomas could keep a handle on their savings. Jimmy was certain they’d never go hungry with his meticulous saving.

“Weird to think we can go to bed tonight without having to worry about Carson tomorrow." Jimmy admitted softly. 

“Or his lordship." Thomas added from the floor, blowing another column of smoke into the air.

Jimmy watched Thomas smoke, and wondered what he was thinking. Wondered at what mysteries he was unraveling, what smart plans he was making. 

Wondered if he knew how very much Jimmy adored him. 

“Sod that, “Jimmy joked, squatting back down to pick up the remaining wrapper of his fish and chips to nibble the last crumbs and suck at the grease. Its salty taste was incredibly pleasing, “I’m calling him Robert in here. Robbie!” Jimmy leered, feeling a right tyrant, “Good ol’ Robbie, bless him.” 

Thomas laughed gayly, watching as Jimmy continued to suck at his fingers in the light of the lone oil lamp. 

“….Your glowing." Thomas spoke up after a moment. Jimmy was slightly confused and didn’t have a damn clue what to make of that till he realized the grease from his dinner must be touching the corners of his mouth. He rolled his eyes, rubbing his greasy lips with the back of his hand. 

“No I’m not.” Jimmy grumbled, “You’re exaggerating.” 

“Look at your fingers in the lamp light.” Thomas offered, and Jimmy did so to note that they were, in fact, glowing a little from the grease. It was hardly anything to write home about. 

“That’s nothin’ special.” Jimmy assured him, feeling rather grimy for how he was covered in grease and dirt. How was it that despite having worked just as hard as Jimmy Thomas still remained oddly cleaner? 

“I disagree." Thomas offered him a sweet smile that made Jimmy’s heart skip a little beat, “You’re very special.” 

“... Don’t be so soft.” Jimmy mumbled, turning away to rummage through the wardrobe to fetch two of their coats. They would have to do as pillows and blankets for the night, and he balled them up to put them at the head of their mattress side by side. Before he could turn around, however, he was taken up from behind by a pair of strong arms and the smell of woodbine smoke as Thomas began to kiss him once more on the neck. The scratch of his forming whiskers and the smell of clove at his mouth made Jimmy want to tremble with desire, and he cursed himself for being so damn weak. He needed to get a hold of himself before Elvira found out and started teasing him again. 

“I’m in me own house…” Thomas kissed his neck, “Me own bedroom” another kiss, “holdin’ the love of my life.” He pulled back, turning Jimmy in his arms so that Jimmy could stare at him over his shoulder. Thomas’ handsome features were only exaggerated in the semi-dark, his sharp cheekbones and almond eyes glistening with merry intent. “I’ll be as soft as I like.” 

Jimmy shuddered in spite of himself. 

“… I’m not so special, Thomas.” Jimmy whispered. Thomas blinked, unfazed, “I’m gonna loose all me spark once you see me at every hour of the day. You're probably going to tire of me-“ 

Thomas shook his head, silencing Jimmy with a firm finger upon his lips. Jimmy shuddered again, blaming the cold and refusing to think too deeply about how much of a lie it was as Thomas pulled him. His arms encompassed him, kept him safe, and Jimmy closed his eyes as Thomas brought his mouth to Jimmy's ear to whisper, “You’re so convinced you’re the Devil’s shadow. That no one could ever love you if they knew the real you.” Thomas nuzzled his hair, nose full of curls as his hot breath tickled Jimmy’s neck, “But I know the real you, Jimmy- and I love every piece of you.” 

He kissed Jimmy again, this time taking a moment to suck softly at the tendons of Jimmy’s neck. 

Jimmy bowed his head, body rocked by Thomas’ ministrations. “You say that now-“ Jimmy’s voice warbled. 

“I say that always.” Thomas corrected, his mouth full of Jimmy’s neck. 

“Thomas I'm not made of gold-“ Jimmy tried to cut him off, but his words seemed to spark a sudden idea in Thomas. Thomas paused, pulling back, eyes lighting up as he grinned at Jimmy and glanced at the oil lamp glowing upon the floor. 

“But you are.” Thomas corrected him, “And I’ll prove it.” 

“How?” 

“…Strip." Thomas commanded him. 

Jimmy’s stomach did a series of flip flops, shocked by the insinuation of Thomas’ words as he glanced over his shoulder at the queen sized mattress upon the floor. He would have been lying if he’d insisted that this was all a surprise, that he didn’t know what could possibly happen next, but in that moment as he caught the gleam coming off of Thomas’ eyes he felt foolish and small. Like Thomas was playing a game Jimmy couldn't contend in. Like Thomas was running circles around him and Jimmy was just standing there like a dumb log. 

“That won’t prove anything-“ Jimmy mumbled, “I’m-“ 

But Thomas cut him off, drawing in close once more to kiss Jimmy as softly and sappily as he dared upon the cheek. He even took Jimmy's chin in his hand, making Jimmy’s eyes flutter closed with delight as he whispered, “Strip.” One more time in Jimmy’s ear. 

He kissed Jimmy again on the cheek, pulling back with a knowing smile as he left the bedroom entirely to disappear into the darkened hallway. 

Jimmy had no idea what he was up to, but he’d be a fool not to do as he was told

 

So he stripped. 

Nervous but incredibly excited at the same time, Jimmy shucked his suspenders to let them fall to his waist, eyes continually flicking back to the massive mattress on the floor as he pulled off his undershirt to let it fall to the floor. There was no point in be tidy just yet, they didn't even have a bureau to put their clothes in. It send a jolt through Jimmy to imagine that he and Thomas would be able to put their clothes in the same drawer. That this house was _theirs_. That everything in it was _theirs_. That in it, they could be themselves. They could be together. They could be one. 

Thomas was back, the jar of olive oil in hand from the kitchen cupboards. He regarded Jimmy as if he were a piece of fine art, eyes narrowed slightly as he soaked him in from head to toe. Smiling, a little chuffed, Jimmy undid the clasp of his trousers to shuck them to the floor. Stepping free of them, he was now only in pants and felt incredibly nude despite still technically being clothed. 

As if, in this house, Jimmy were completely new to the game and not an experienced player. 

“You look nervous.” Thomas murmured, his voice soft and soothing in the semi-dark. Like he’d merged with the house and was now one breathing image with it. 

“…I… I don’t know what-“ But Jimmy stopped himself mid-sentence, unsure of what he was even trying to say anymore. He busied himself by picking up his trousers and folding them, setting them atop his valise and bowing his head as Thomas stepped forward to take him into his arms. For a moment, Jimmy contented himself with the warmth Thomas brought him, aware that Thomas had a hand directly over his heart and was feeling how it pounded beneath his flesh.

Somehow though Jimmy could not fully understand it, Thomas seemed to understand the anxiety that flowed through him. Seemed to be able to talk to it and sooth it better than any other person alive. Even now, as Thomas held a hand over his heart, Jimmy could feel Thomas soothing that terrible rushing river in his chest. Making it go slower, calmer. 

Make it behave. 

“What if I’m rubbish?” Jimmy whispered, closing his eyes. He couldn’t exactly say what he meant by asking- maybe it was about being on his own with Thomas in a new house… or maybe it was something else entirely. But Jimmy felt inadequate. He felt too young- like a baby bird that had been pushed out of the nest. 

“Perish the thought.” Thomas whispered in his ear. 

Jimmy allowed that feeling of contentedness, of approval and love, to fill him up as he took his pants in hand and began to push them downward. As they hit the ground, Jimmy stepped out of them, kicking them aside, and leaned into Thomas’ embrace as Thomas kissed him softly upon the neck. Thomas’ arms wrapped around him, keeping him warm and safe against the bitter October cold. Without a proper fire going in the house yet, it was incredibly cold in their bedroom. 

_Their_ bedroom. 

“Perfection.” Thomas whispered in Jimmy’s ear, and without another word he slowly led him over to bed. Given that the mattress was on the floor, both Jimmy and Thomas had to drop down onto their knees before they could sit on it. Jimmy pulled his legs up to his chest, shivering. 

“Bloody hell it’s chilly.” Jimmy bit out. 

“I’ll keep you warm.” Thomas set the jar of olive oil by the head of the bed where their clothes lay folded like pillows. “Lay back.” 

Jimmy didn’t immediately do so, his nerves getting to him again. He rocked a little upon his heels, hugging his legs to his chest as he turned his head to the side and stared at their bed. At all it had taken them in order to get there. He closed his eyes, soothed as Thomas gently ran his fingers through Jimmy’s hair. 

“Lay back Jimmy.” Thomas whispered. 

Jimmy unfolded himself, slowly laying back upon the makeshift pillows so that he was at an angle with his legs skewed to the right. Thomas shifted him underneath the knees, moving him fully onto the bed so that his feet could touch the mattress. Careful not to jostle it too much, Thomas moved the oil lamp over to the side of the bed so that it could shine better light upon them both. Guided by Thomas’ caring hands, Jimmy watched as he opened the jar of olive oil and dipped his fingers inside. He drew it out, fingers dripping with a semi-clear yellow liquid, and smiled as he brought a hand over to slowly trail wet fingers upon Jimmy’s arm nearest the light. Jimmy shuddered, reveling the electric sensation of the touch. Thomas’ fingers seemed to sculpt him, transform him arm into a moving piece of art, and as he drew away he said, “Now look at where the light touches you. Yes?” 

Jimmy looked, and saw that the light had now lit up the trail of oil like a river of gold. He snorted. This was just a mirage, nothing truly unique or special on Jimmy’s part as he said, “Thomas that’s not me, that’s the oil.” 

But Thomas cut him off, bringing his hand up to shush Jimmy upon the lips. The oil chilled him, and as he stuck his tongue out he tasted it upon his flesh. It was slightly salty but smooth and made his skin feel soothed. 

Thomas took up the olive oil and tipped it into his hands, allowing a generous amount to pool in his palm as he leaned heavily upon the bed and rubbed his fingers together. They glistened, shining like silver, and where Thomas touched Jimmy gold emerged in his path. It was incredibly soothing to be massaged after such a long and grueling day. Thomas ran his hands over Jimmy’s pectorals and abdomen, pushing and kneading gently till all the stress began to melt away. As his hands ghosted towards Jimmy’s groin, Thomas quirked a grin and diverted both left and right down Jimmy’s legs. Thomas re oiled both his hands focusing on one leg at a time as he rubbed and pushed. Soon Jimmy was as slick as a fish on his front, grinning lazily with his eyes nearly closed. 

But then, Thomas’ fingers moved back up, and began to drift through the dark golden thatch of hair between Jimmy’s thighs. Jimmy hissed in a breath, eyes squeezing shut for sheer pleasure as Thomas took his prick in hand and lazily stroked him. The oil glided his fingers along, making him like a firm hot glove that wouldn’t let go. Moisture began to leak from his tip, his penis twitching as Thomas stroked the throbbing vein on its underside. Grunting softly, Jimmy opened his eyes again to find Thomas smiling crookedly at him. He wasn’t even looking at Jimmy’s prick as he stroked- he seemed to know it by sheer memory at this point. 

“Now roll over.” Thomas commanded, his voice turning dark with delicious intent. 

“Uh…” Jimmy felt almost like he could fall asleep if it weren’t for the fact that Thomas had a hold of his dick. Thomas squeezed, not hard but with clear meaning, and Jimmy groaned again as his prick pulsed in Thomas’ hand. 

“Roll over, my sweet.” Thomas repeated. Jimmy was forced to obey, tugging himself up on one side to turn over onto the mattress. He groaned, burying his face in the comforting scent of Thomas’ jacket as he sighed and folded his arms underneath his chin. Thomas seemed to be re-oiling his hands, because for a moment there were no hands on him. Then, something cool and wet fell between his shoulder blades nearly making him jump only to be followed by Thomas’ hot hands. For a moment, Jimmy was in pure heaven as Thomas massaged his aching back all up and down his spine. By the time he’d reached Jimmy’s waist, Jimmy was a puddle of melted butter eager to meld to Thomas every touch. Thomas re-oiled his hands once more, allowing his thumbs to press deeply at the base of Jimmy’s spine so that two of his vertebra popped. Jimmy grunted, his toes beginning to curl at the pleasure of it all. 

But Thomas’ hands were still going lower. 

“Thomas please…” Jimmy whispered. 

“Trust me.” Thomas urged, and Jimmy did.   
He trusted Thomas with his heart and soul. 

Thomas moved with care- with a sweet gentility that couldn’t be replicated twice. His fingers drifted to the cleft of Jimmy’s arse, oil slickening the way, till they arrived at his center and slowly began to push. It was torturous, long, but smooth, and Jimmy groaned as Thomas used his free hand to gently stroke the plump skin of Jimmy’s arse. He squeezed, his strong fingers flexing in a commanding grip, and Jimmy groaned again in spite of himself. Thomas’ fingers were inside of him now, first one then two, pushing and pumping with such skill that Jimmy couldn’t clearly remember his last name. 

 

“Yes…” Thomas urged, pushing deeper so that Jimmy had to clutch tight at the makeshift pillows beneath him if only to find purchase on something before he lost his mind at the spark of sensation shooting up his spine, “Moan as loud as you want to my darling, we’re home now. We can moan as we please here, and no one can stop us or tell us we’re wrong.” 

The thought made Jimmy delirious, filthy ideas consuming his mind as he pressed his face into Thomas’ coat and rode his fingers. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough enough, and Jimmy shook his head, forced to beg if only to get more of what he so desperately needed. 

“Uh- ugh!” Jimmy thrashed, “More! Oh more please-“ 

“More?” Thomas teased. 

“More!” 

There was a dripping sensation as oil flowed down the trail of Thomas’ diving fingers- then two became three. Jimmy cried out, the burn intoxicating. It was horrifically perfect, in a way that terrified him, but it just wasn’t _enough_. Worst of all, it had made him garbled, his brain spouting of all sorts of rubbish as he canted his spine back to take as much of Thomas’ perfect fingers as he possibly could. 

“I can’t!” Jimmy begged- and Thomas suddenly paused as if in fear until Jimmy blurted out, “Thomas don’t stop-“ he resumed at once, “Oh!” Jimmy cried out again at the renewed vigor of sensation, “Oh I can’t! It’s too much- don’t stop-!” He begged again lest Thomas think he was panicking and pause, “Oh I’ll die. Oh don’t stop whatever you do but- but-!” 

Yet at this, Thomas had the audacity to laugh, hand moving vigorously against Jimmy as Jimmy began to press his swollen prick into the rough texture of the mattress trying to find relief. 

“Die?” Thomas smiled, nuzzling the shell of Jimmy’s ear- his breath was hot and thick making Jimmy shudder for the heat spreading down his neck, “No… You’ll live. Live my darling.” 

Thomas fucked him to the knuckle, stroking his inner walls; the sensations they sparked in Jimmy were utterly foreign. Before this moment, spread beneath Thomas on a mattress without linens and a room without heat, Jimmy couldn’t have imagined such pleasure, such joy. Couldn’t imagine that anyone in the world could inspire such heights of ecstasy in him. Couldn’t imagine it possible for him to feel this much. 

“Oh Thomas-“ Jimmy babbled, not thinking straight, “Please- please-“ he couldn’t see clear anymore, “Please I’m ready. I’m ready I swear it. I want it.” 

And he meant it to the core. 

Anxiety threatened to swallow him on a daily basis, made it hard to function in a world growing faster by the year… but in this moment, as Jimmy lay beneath Thomas and opened his soul up to the possibility of full and true love, anxiety could not touch him. Only Thomas could touch him, and touch him well. 

“Oh Jimmy…” Thomas was just as overcome as he. He pumped his fingers, breath hot and hard in Jimmy’s ear. He kissed Jimmy up and down his neck, tongue hot and slick as he licked Jimmy’s throat. He seemed to be trying to consume Jimmy alive, and thank god for it. 

“I want you, Thomas.” Jimmy whispered, turning his face to the left to kiss Thomas full upon the mouth. For a moment it was just a clash of teeth and tongue, a distraction from the burn that was beginning to ache in his cleft, “Please. Please give it to me now-“ He mumbled against Thomas’ swollen lips, “Right now. I’m ready I swear-“ 

Thomas kissed him again, soundly, but even as Jimmy leaned into the kiss to take more, Thomas pulled back so that Jimmy was suddenly gasping against the chilly air. 

Thomas bent low, kissing the small of Jimmy’s back as he slowly pulled his fingers free of Jimmy’s arse- the sudden lack made Jimmy squirm in discomfort as he flipped onto his back and watched Thomas squat by the side of the bed to yank off his undershirt and suspenders. He was moving with a frenzy, positively incensed as he undid the clasp of his trousers and shucked them to the floor. He had to struggle to unlace his boots, kicking them all aside in a jumbled heap so that he was only left in his pants. They were tented, Thomas’ aching prick obvious as he palmed his cock roughly through the fabric for a split second before hooking his thumbs and tugging the fabric down. His cock sprang free, causing Jimmy’s heart to jump as he saw how sizable it was. Engorged, aroused, Thomas’ cock seemed to him in that moment an almost mythical thing. To imagine this man before him, this beautiful creature was actually real was akin to thinking a unicorn could exist. It just didn’t seem logically plausible. 

“Lay back-“ Thomas whispered throatily, and Jimmy instantly flattened himself against the mattress again as Thomas dipped his fingers again into the jar of olive oil. Jimmy sniffed, chewing a little upon his bottom lip as Thomas closed his eyes and hissed for the intense sensation of touching his prick. He stroked himself taking deep long breathes lest he grow too aroused, coating his cock in olive oil till it shone like silver in the lamp light. Opening his eyes again, Thomas made Jimmy’s heart jump again as he climbed onto the mattress between Jimmy’s legs to take Jimmy beneath the knees and hoist him. Jimmy was shocked as his knees nearly touched his chest with Thomas seated between them. Suddenly the top of Thomas’ thighs were pressed to the backs of Jimmy’s, his hands pulling Jimmy close even as he reached between Jimmy’s legs to re insert his fingers. Jimmy bit down on a whimper, eyes falling slightly shut as Thomas stroked him for a moment, simply playing with him and teasing him- _damn him if he wasn’t beautiful_. 

Thomas leaned in and kissed Jimmy sweetly upon the mouth. Jimmy groaned, the volume of his voice reverberating in Thomas’ own mouth as he reached up to entwine his fingers through Thomas’ silky black hair. Over and over again Thomas kissed him as he fingered Jimmy- every so often Jimmy felt a hot sticky brush of flesh upon his inner thigh and knew it was Thomas’ cock. 

Then Thomas was pulling his fingers back for a second time, shifting and pausing between Jimmy’s legs so that for a moment the pair of them were totally silent in tense anticipation. Jimmy felt something hot and blunt at the head of his rectum, slippery from oil as Thomas rubbed it gently up and down his cleft. 

“I love you.” Jimmy blurted out, shocked by the intensity of the feeling inside his chest, “I love you so much. Do it to me; do it. Right now-“ 

“Jimmy,” Thomas’ voice was toneless, barely a whisper between them. It was like any force of motion would make him crack and shatter. He was barely speaking at all, “If at any time… any time… you want me to stop. I swear I will.” Thomas shook his head, emotional. Beneath him, Jimmy watched entranced, “I don’t care how… how in the throw of it I am, okay?” 

And it was the fact that Thomas cared more for Jimmy’s comfort and pleasure than his own that cemented within Jimmy just how certain he was that he was ready. That it was time… and that if there was anyone on God’s green earth that he ought to make love to, it was Thomas Nathaniel Barrow. 

He kissed Thomas again, a soft gentle thing that was merely a touch of flesh. As he lay back against the pillows again, Jimmy felt his heart rate begin to pick up. His breathing was loud in his own ears, and as Thomas leaned over him Jimmy closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to ground himself. 

Something hot was pressing into him.

A tiny noise hitched in Jimmy’s throat as a wave of pain suddenly took him over. For a split second he thought of calling the whole thing off. Of backing out once again and apologizing to Thomas for his cowardice. But Jimmy knew Thomas loved him, that Thomas would never hurt him, and so he hung on for dear life as the pain grew hotter, higher, tighter- until suddenly there were soft lips at his throat, kissing gently. 

“Nearly there.” Thomas was whispering in his ear. “Nearly.” 

Something slick was being rubbed at his entrance- olive oil he figured- it eased the friction a fractional amount, only that Thomas could suddenly slide another inch despite Jimmy’s compressing heat. Fingers could never have prepared Jimmy for this- fingers were a joke- and suddenly he was fucking grateful they were doing this in a house with locks and doors and privacy because any second now Jimmy was going to scream. His heart was pounding in his throat-! 

“Breath darling-“ Thomas reminded him, and Jimmy sucked in a rattling breath realizing that for the past second he’d totally forgotten to do so. But the breath gave way to a load uncontrollable moan of both pain and pleasure as Thomas slid another inch, and then one final more- till he was completely inside of Jimmy and the burning heat was at an end. Jimmy shook uncontrollably, whether from cold or from nerves he could not know. Thomas’ fingers were stroking his eyelids, and Jimmy’s eyes fluttered open in reflex as he blinked up at Thomas who was staring down at him with tenderest concern. 

He kissed one of Jimmy’s eyelids, then the other, watching his face for any sign of distress. Jimmy was so overcome with the burning sensation that he could barely speak, could hardly remember words of the English language. Thomas reached for more olive oil, hand going between their combined legs to find Jimmy’s flaming entrance. He traced and soothed the taut skin, rubbing it softly as he-

“Oh my g-“ Jimmy couldn’t finish the sentence at the sheer shock of sensation that rippled through him as Thomas pulled back only to push in once more. It was like his body were one live hot wire- like electricity were flowing through his veins instead of blood-! 

“God!” Jimmy cried out as Thomas pulled out a little more only to push back, “Fuck me Jesus God!” 

Thomas cradled Jimmy’s face with his forearms, leaning over him as Jimmy’s knees banged into his ribs and he set into a rhythm. “Ah!” Thomas started to flex his hips, rolling them like thunder across a torn sky, “God oh- Oh God… God… Fuck me-!” 

“M’name is Thomas but you can call me God if y’like-“ Thomas grinned into Jimmy’s ear, and Jimmy heard a strangled mewling laugh escape his lips for the hilarity of it all as Thomas began to push and pull at a languid pace. Jimmy’s cock was utterly swollen now, hyper sensitive as it banged first against Jimmy’s stomach and then Thomas’. 

Suddenly Thomas reached down with one hand, fingers ghosting over Jimmy’s convulsing abdomen as he finally rested on the based of Jimmy’s engorged prick. He began to stroke Jimmy with absolute care, fingers slipping from traces of olive oil as Jimmy cried out. He couldn’t stand it- he had to look- and opened his eyes to see Thomas’ hand rapidly bringing him to sure release. 

No one had ever been so devoted to his pleasure before. 

When Jimmy had had sex with Anstruther, it had always been about her pleasure. He supposed now that he shouldn’t have been surprised- she was a lady of the upper class after all and he had been her footman. In a way, sex with her had just been another detail of the job… “Tea m’lady, your coat m’lady, an orgasm m’lady”. It had become so incredibly boring in the end, to the point where Jimmy had felt as exhausted to lay with her as he did when he polished silver. She’d wanted her own, and when she’d gotten it she’d let him be. Jimmy had often stroked himself off in her powder room, taking a moment to recompose himself before putting back on his livery and heading downstairs. He could remember just how cold he’d felt, all the time- even in summer. As if Anstruther had sucked the warmth from his body

But as Jimmy lay beneath Thomas, a heat had taken both of them over so that each of their bodies were glistening in beads of forming sweat. Thomas’ arm muscles bulged from where he continued to pump Jimmy’s cock, his brow furrowed and mouth slightly parted in intense concentration. That look, and the knowledge of how much Thomas loved him behind it, stopped Jimmy dead so that he suddenly began to shake- 

“Breath…” Thomas kissed him on the forehead, whispering into his hairline, “Breath deep.” 

Jimmy sucked in another rattling gasp, shocked to find he’d stopped breathing once again. With each exhale he moaned, the sound of his adoration spurning Thomas onward as he let go of Jimmy’s cock for a moment to get a better grip on Jimmy’s hips. His grip bruising, Thomas anchored Jimmy against his pelvis and began to fuck him with such vigor that Jimmy had no choice but to scream. He didn’t know where this virginal feeling within him had come from. He was no stranger to sex but felt like he was making love (true love) for the first time. 

No wonder people went to jail for sodomy. This shit was _divine_. 

“Harder-harder-harder!” Jimmy begged, a glutton for pleasure as practically bent him in half to keep pummeling into him. He let go of Jimmy’s hip with one hand, grabbing onto Jimmy’s cock as Jimmy locked onto Thomas’ back with his calves. He dug his heels into Thomas’ spine, unable to catch adequate breath for how much sensation was flooding his body. “Oh- OH!” 

Thomas kept pumping, bringing him closer and closer to release, “Oh god Thomas please, please, please, PLEASE!” Jimmy cried out, wailing as he felt himself get closer to the edge. He needed more, he needed _more_ \- but what? 

“Cum fer me darlin’” Thomas whispered throatily in Jimmy’s ear, his voice taking on a foreign husky timbre filled with lust, “Won’t you be good t’me and cum fer me? Eh?” 

Jimmy threw back his head and wailed, falling straight over that cliff into an utter abyss of golden warmth as he came. “Thomas!!” Jimmy blurted out Thomas’ name, unable to say anything else- it was the center of his existence, the word and all that it meant. The whole universe had been reduced down to this bedroom, to this mattress, to them and the love that they made. 

But they were not finished yet. Thomas had let go of Jimmy’s softening cock to grab at his hips again- Jimmy felt his tunnel clench, sucking in Thomas’ prick like a vice as Thomas gasped and pinched his eyes closed. Thomas’ rhythm picked up again, becoming more frantic as Jimmy reached up with a cum soaked hand to trail his fingers against Thomas’ sweating pectorals. 

“Oh- oh…” Jimmy choked out, body hypersensitive to every thrust and pull, “Oh I love you- I love you so much… Please. Please!” Jimmy begged as Thomas grunted, teeth clenched tight, “Don’t hold back love- don’t-“ 

But Jimmy needn’t have worried.   
Thomas bowed over, fingertips white where they clenched Jimmy’s hips as he howled Jimmy’s name. Jimmy felt something hot and slick inside of him, deep where none had ever touched him before, and Thomas still completely as he took in a rattling breath to nearly topple over onto Jimmy. The pair of them were panting, gasping, shaking deliriously in the afterglow of their love making. Thomas cradled Jimmy’s face with his forearms again, refusing to let go despite how his body shook wildly in protest. 

Jimmy stared at him, taking in every detail- the faint purple bags beneath his eyes, the slight hook of his nose and way his black hair fell into his eyes when it wasn’t slicked. The sharp curve of his cheekbones, and the way he loved Jimmy totally. 

Completely.   
Utterly. 

Thomas was still gasping, his heart pounding. Jimmy reached up, gently touching a lock of Thomas’ hair. It was soaked in sweat. 

“…Yer shaking…” Jimmy whispered in the silence. 

“M’fine.” Thomas barely spoke the word. It more or less just tumbled from his mouth on a puff of air. 

“C’mere….” Jimmy lovingly tugged on Thomas’ shaking arms, urging him to lay. Thomas stuttered resisting, 

“No, M’fat-“ He shook violently, “I’ll crush-“ but then all the fight gave out of him and he collapsed atop Jimmy with a soft _‘Oof!’_. He was heavy, pinning Jimmy down beneath him as he rested his head underneath Jimmy’s chin. Below, Thomas slipped out of Jimmy, leaving his hole stinging with a dull throbbing ache. Despite not having covers, Jimmy felt warm, and closed his eyes peacefully as he ran his fingers across Thomas’ body. He stroked Thomas’ back, his broad shoulder blades, his narrow hips, his sweaty hair. Kissing Thomas’ temple, Jimmy felt Thomas’ breathing even out at long last as his heart relaxed. 

“… I love you.” Jimmy whimpered, an emotional wreck in lieu of their lovemaking, “So much.” 

Thomas did not reply, save the softest grumble that might have been a ‘you too’. God help him Thomas was so exhausted he’d nearly passed out. 

“So, so, so much.” Jimmy kissed his temple again, letting his lips linger there to suck up the scent of clove and nutmeg. He stretched out a hand, barely able to reach, and turned off the oil lamp so that they were plunged into absolute darkness. 

Jimmy brought his hand back and wrapped his arms around Thomas.   
He breathed four times, closed his eyes… and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at the camera like I'm on _"The Office"_
> 
> Cheers folks. Happy 2016.


	6. The Jack Ross Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas looked back around the room again, unsure. Jimmy cut him off by speaking up again, “Sing to me, Thomas.” 
> 
> He supposed there was only one thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the slight delay. I have many balls in the air at the moment and am now officially working on two fics at the same time. 0/10 would not recommend.

He dreamed lovely dreams, of warm colors and soft sounds. Of birds twittering and the sounds of children playing. Nothing solid, nor truly real… just a mesh of beauty and comfort that left Jimmy feeling cocooned. Life had become a dream. Perhaps that was why it took him a while to realize he was not dreaming at all but awake in his bed with Thomas wrapped securely around him. The sounds of bird and children turned out to be just as they were, drifting in from the cracks of the french doors to their veranda. It was morning, with light streaming into their bedroom, and all coats had long been knocked aside in the night so that Jimmy’s only warmth and protection from the cold came from Thomas’ naked body. His powerful legs were intertwined with Jimmy’s thighs; his muscled arms cradling Jimmy’s head. 

This peaceful setting might have gone on long enough if it weren’t for the fact that Jimmy felt oddly… grimy. Like he’d never be clean again. 

Which might have had something to do with the fact that he was absolutely covered in olive oil and semen. 

“Uh god…” Jimmy moaned, turning on his back to look Thomas in the face. Thomas was incredibly still, his face peaceful and quiet in the morning air. As he blinked his eyes open, Jimmy was greeted by the curious sight of a sea after a storm. Of an iceberg that could not melt, even in the fiercest summer. Jimmy reached up, making to touch Thomas’ handsome face, but he paused as he saw just how disgusting his fingers were in the morning light. They were covered with a dust mixed with dried oil, making him as dark as unpolished silver. Grimacing, he sat up, and only then saw that not only were his fingers dirty but his entire body too. Gaping, Jimmy looked around at Thomas again, only to find that he was grinning from ear to ear, relaxing back on a cocked hand and scratching idly at his stomach. 

He too was blackened like tar. 

“Thomas! Euagh!” Jimmy cried out, furious. Thomas, the little bastard, burst out laughing and merely continued to scratch his stomach. It seemed the dust had made him itchy. “We shouldn’t have gone to bed like this. The mattress is nasty- you’re nasty- I’m nasty!” but Thomas just continued to laugh and laugh, “Thomas!” Furious Jimmy pushed him out of the bed entirely so that he fell naked onto the floor. Burying his face in the mattress to avoid having to listen to Thomas cackle for being a prat, Jimmy briefly considered kicking him in the groin if only getting him to shut up. He nudged his foot over the edge of the mattress, searching for Thomas’ thigh. Instead he found only air at the sound of feet upon wood. The mattress dipped again, and suddenly Jimmy was covered once more by a sensation of warmth and the smell of woodbine mixed in clove. Thomas kissed him between his shoulder blades, his whiskers scratching Jimmy’s skin. It was a mildly pleasant sensation, and Jimmy smiled despite his irritation at being filthy. 

“You stay here, eh?” Thomas murmured in Jimmy’s ear. All warmth receded, and one dip in the mattress later Jimmy was left alone on the bed. He heard odd noises, like banging in pipes, and wondered what Thomas was up to as the sounds receded to be replaced by silence again. Despite having no blanket and it being mid-October, he felt oddly warm. He might have gone back to sleep if it hadn’t been for the sudden feeling of hands upon him, tugging him up. Jimmy sighed, eyes resolutely closed, even as he was tugged right up off the mattress proper and into Thomas’ arms. Some might have called him stubborn, but Jimmy saw himself as aware of a good opportunity. Thomas certainly didn’t seem to mind as he carried Jimmy out of the bedroom. 

Jimmy felt the temperature pick up significantly, and opened his eyes to see that Thomas had decided to run them a bath. The powder room was now full of steam which trickled out through the tiny solitary window high above. It let in just the smallest guff of cold air, but Jimmy couldn’t feel it as Thomas sat him down and allowed him to explore his new bathroom. They didn’t have the qualities and comforts of Downton- there weren’t even bath linens to dry off with afterward. But as Jimmy stared at that porcelain tub, full of steaming clear water, he likened it to a golden cup full of hot wine, and sank into it with greatest relief. The water warmed his skin, practically scalding him, and as Jimmy exhaled he felt like all the cold was leaving him. He snuggled against the basin of the tub, water sloshing over his shoulders; above him Thomas relaxed against the counter of the sink. 

But this didn’t sit right by Jimmy, not at all, for Thomas was just as nasty as he. 

“You too!” Jimmy urged, sitting upright in the tub so that the tips of his toes brushed the farthest edge. He held out a hand for Thomas, water trickling down his arm, but Thomas shook his head with a small smile. 

“Love, there’s no room for me.” Thomas chided. Jimmy wouldn’t be denied, shimmying forward in the tub to pull Thomas from the edge of the sink right to the rim so that he had no choice but to clamber inside the tub. Water sloshed everywhere, ferried about by two sets of legs as Thomas sat down with his knees pressed right against Jimmy’s spine. It was incredibly pinched, and Jimmy scooted backward right into Thomas’ lap so that suddenly their legs could inter-lap down the length of the tub. Turning a little, Jimmy glanced over his shoulder to see Thomas blushing profusely as if Jimmy had just given him a provocative lap dance instead of offering him a bath. He supposed the fact that he was now promptly sitting on Thomas’ cock didn’t help matters much, but Jimmy didn’t find this act sexual at all. In was almost like climbing back into bed, where the warmth of the covers could melt away the chill of the outside world. 

Still. 

Jimmy took his hand and stroked Thomas’ chest, letting beads of water from his fingertips fall into Thomas’ thinned thatch of black chest hair. It was difficult to tell whether Thomas was more hairy than Jimmy or simply had a darker color hair so it showed up better. Jimmy could feel the hair on his own arms and belly, though it became lost in his golden skin. Jimmy’s fingers trailed left, then right, touching the rosy peaks of Thomas’ nipples. Beneath the pads of his fingers, he swore he could feel the pounding of Thomas’ heart. Thomas’ mouth had fallen slightly open, his lips plump, red, and swollen as his eyes followed closed. Like a hummingbird to nectar, Jimmy dipped his head forward to taste Thomas’ lips. The steam from their shared bath wetted his skin, forming the slightest dew that he greedily up. Thomas brought his hand up, water falling down his arm and onto Jimmy’s back as he cupped Jimmy’s head. Leaning into the touch, Jimmy allowed himself to sink into Thomas’ embrace. 

They didn’t bathe much after that. 

~*~

After their ‘bath’ (which had really only been a bath in the lamest of terms), Thomas and Jimmy had to resort to lighting a fire in their vacant living room in order to get warm and dry. Without the flame they’d catch a death of cold, still lacking bath linens as of yet. As a matter of fact, they were lacking a great deal many of things (such as furniture) so now the pair of them sat side by side, their backs to the fire and their knees pressed together as Thomas penned a shopping list and Jimmy leaned into his side. They were still nude, which was both shocking and freeing given that they were only one window away from everyone on the streets seeing. Hidden on the floor of their living room though, both Thomas and Jimmy were relatively safe. 

Unless someone attempted to wash their windows. 

“I want a sofa.” Jimmy said as Thomas kept writing out prospective purchases. If they had a sofa, they could sit together and watch the fireplace. Christmas was only a few months away; that would be a wonderful way to spend the holiday. 

“So do I.” Thomas agreed, sectioning off their list by rooms. Underneath the title ‘living room’ he began to scrawl, “So by and large we want a sofa-“ 

“Two arm chairs.” Jimmy added, picturing them on either side of the sofa framing the length of the room. 

“A coffee table.” Thomas added, which was good sense. It could go at the foot of the sofa. 

“Side tables? Bar?” Jimmy offered, gesturing about the room. 

“In time yes-“ But Thomas’ brain was a powerful machine and it was already kicking into overdrive. he’d divided their page into several lists, coming up with a combination of rooms such as ‘bedroom’, ‘kitchen’, ‘pantry’, ‘washroom’, and ‘veranda’. “We’ll want curtains, for everywhere.” Thomas put an odd box at the top of the page, divided into four squares. Perhaps it was supposed to symbolize a window. Jimmy watched, entranced, “I’ll have to count and measure the windows but I don’t have a ruler.” 

“We can buy one at the general store.” Jimmy added, and Thomas flipped their little list onto its back so as to write a new list on the other side simply titled ‘GS’. He wrote ‘ruler’ at the top, then flipped the list back onto its front side. 

“We’ll want a kitchen table, four chairs-“ Thomas mused underneath the sub-heading of ‘kitchen’. “We’ll end up getting supplies as we carry on.” 

“We need bed frames, for the bedroom.” Jimmy said, hoping the could spend the upcoming night off of the floor. Yet at the mention of the bedroom Thomas’ pen paused on the paper. He glanced up at Jimmy. Funny how though Thomas was nude on a dirty floor he still had the ability to command an audience. 

“We’re going to have to play this safe, Jimmy.” Thomas warned. His tone had taken a serious edge. “We’ll be sleeping in the big room, but we’ll need two more beds.” 

“What?” Jimmy demanded, thinking of their thirty pounds and how rapidly it would diminish if they had to buy two extra beds. But Thomas would not be swayed with a solemn shake of his head. 

“It’ll keep up appearances that we’re not sleeping together.” Thomas explained. “Two singles, bought as a set. One for Danny, one for a guest.” 

“I guess.” Jimmy grumbled, though he still wasn’t entirely swayed. Who was to say that someone would be in their home looking for excuses anyways? As far as Jimmy was concerned, no one was crossing their threshold unless Jimmy himself deemed it so. 

“They sell bedroom sets.” Thomas assured him, “Usually at a lower price. It won’t be fancy but it will be ours. A bureau, a bedside table, a washstand… nothing insane.” 

“But we’ll need a bedside table too.” Jimmy added, thinking of their own bedroom and all it could hold. In his head he was already picturing a room shaded by rich red curtains much like the kind Thomas used to have at the abbey. The sun would warm the room, but not intrude on their sleep. As jazz musicians, their hours would be unlike anything Thomas had ever known before. Their work would come at night, their rest at day. The less sun that intruded upon their room, the better. 

“Two of them.” Thomas agreed. Jimmy could suddenly remember his parent’s bedroom, and how each side of their rather dumpy bed had had a bedside table complete with his parent’s belongings. His mother side had included a lamp, a picture of Jimmy as a baby swaddled in his crib, a few books of poetry she’d often like to re-read, and usually a glass of water (she’d coughed at night). Jimmy’s father’s side had been much more messy, with an ash tray full of half-smoked cigarettes and a pocket watch on an Albert chain lazing about next to an ancient oil lamp that had apparently belonged to Jimmy’s great grandparents. Jimmy found himself wondering what would be on his and Thomas’ bedside tables. If their personalities would be just as reflected as Jimmy’s parents had been. 

“And lamps!” Jimmy added, suddenly realizing that in all the mayhem not once had Thomas mentioned anything about light. Their one oil lamp would not be enough, “We have no light in this house! We put up curtains we’re going to be in the dark.” 

“Very true.” Thomas chuckled. 

“Also rugs, artwork?” Jimmy offered as Thomas scribbled away, “Do you want to live in a cave?” 

“We’ll collect as we go along.” Thomas assured him, “We’re not opening house tomorrow. We’ll be fine.” 

“Speak for yourself.” Jimmy grumbled, looking about at the bare walls and floors, “I want some artwork.” 

He thought at first that Thomas might chastise him about spending money without thinking, but Thomas’ face was creeping into a smile as he reached forward and plucked at Jimmy’s chin with his thumb and pointer finger. Jimmy blushed, unsure of what to say or do as Thomas tugged upon his chin and offered him the tiniest smirk. Thomas’ smirks had categories, so plentiful were they, and this one could definitely be described as ‘sweet’. 

“Tell you what.” Thomas mumbled, “Since you were such a good boy last night, how about you can get a piece of artwork today. Anything you like.” 

Jimmy laughed, unable to help himself as Thomas gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Oh I see.” Jimmy rolled his eyes at the mere insistence, “So I get buggering gifts?” 

“Something like that.” Thomas’ smirk turned cheeky as he kissed Jimmy again. 

But even as Jimmy started considering what piece of artwork he’d buy, he could not help but somehow feel incomplete. As if the night they’d shared together were not over yet. The cleft of his arse, which had burned so plaintively the night before, now throbbed dully as he shifted upon the hardwood floor. He chewed his lip, mulling his newfound frustration over. 

“… I want us t’have rings.” Jimmy whispered. 

“We will.” Thomas said after a moment of somber reflection. To prove his point he took up Jimmy’s hand and kissed his bare ring finger, making the skin burn in a warm sort of way, “We’ll work on that later, okay?” And so honest was his tone that Jimmy knew he spoke the truth. He nodded, and Thomas wrapped an arm around his back so that the warmth of the fire was now coupled by the warmth of his skin. “It’s on our todo list.” Thomas promised, “Today we have to think simple. We need sheets for the bed, a bed set, curtains… bathroom linens, soap, food- god we need food in this house.” Thomas chuckled darkly, and Jimmy took up the list to scribble down all that Thomas had said underneath appropriate sub-headings. “Can't eat nothin’ but fish and chips. We’ll have heart attacks.” 

“And a piece of artwork.” Jimmy added, determined that his buggering gift should make the bloody cut. He’d more than earned it after last night. 

“With all the money we have, we could even buy a sofa or a kitchen table.” Thomas mused, tallying up their score, “We can’t have both. We’ve got to be smart.” 

“… Sofa.” Jimmy pronounced, imagining that it could even double as a bed, “We’ll pretend that I’m sleeping on that till we can buy the other beds.” 

“Smart!” Thomas seemed thoroughly impressed, and he yanked Jimmy in about the waist to give him a wet kiss upon the cheek. This ended up with Jimmy squirming away and the pair of them falling to the floor as Thomas trapped Jimmy beneath him. Their list nearly fell into the fire as Jimmy threw his hands up and tangled them in Thomas’ still damp hair. 

A knock at the door. 

Thomas and Jimmy flew apart from one another like polar magnets, the pair of them scrambling for the safety of the darkened hallway to their bedroom as they whipped around their corner and poked their head out to stare at the door to the landing. 

_“Hello?”_ Came Jack Ross’ timbre voice from the other side, _“You two love birds in there?”_

“Uh- y-y-yeah!” Jimmy spluttered, his voice far more shrill than it ought to be. “We’re getting dressed!” And with that he bolted for the bedroom. Jesus Christ what a time for Danny to return! 

“Give us just a mo’!” Thomas shouted to the door, following right after him. 

The pair of them scrambled like children, sniggering every so often as they yanked on pants, socks and sock garters, trousers, suspenders, shirt sleeves and vests. By the time they were done, they looked put together but clearly rumpled with hair sticking up in all directions and shoes not on their feet. Desperate to gain some normalcy Jimmy dashed back into the living room to try and unlock the door for Jack Ross. The only problem was he forgot his shoes, so that his sock slicked feet slid right out from under him and caused him to crash to the ground. He yipped, skull stinging as he cupped the back of his head in his hands. Thomas was by him in an instant, helping him back up and hugging him close as Jimmy groaned into his starched collar. 

“I can’t believe I did that-!” Jimmy moaned, “I’m such an idiot- I think I broke me brain-!” 

Thomas flicked the lock to the door, quickly getting them to both step back so that Jack Ross could come through. He was _sans_ Danny, but certainly had an odd look upon his face as he regarded Jimmy in Thomas’ arms. 

“He slipped upon the floor.” Thomas explained while Jimmy pulled back to rub at his head. 

“Cor I’ve got a knot.” Jimmy felt the egg with care, wincing as Thomas gingerly felt the back of his skull. 

“S’not so bad.” Thomas consoled him, “D’you feel dizzy?” 

“Think you'd feel right silly, running around without shoes.” Jack mused, gesturing to Jimmy’s dirtied socks. “You didn’t have to come running for me, I could have waited.” 

“Thought you had Danny.” Jimmy grimaced, but Jack just laughed. 

“Right well, about that-“ Jack grumbled, shutting the door to their flat and stepping inside to shrug off his thick outer coat. He hung it over his arm, without anywhere else to put it at the moment. Thomas was still massaging the back of his head, as if hoping to coax the lump away with his fingers alone. 

“Danny is sleeping off a cake high, right now.” Jack explained, raking a calloused hand through his slicked black hair, “He and Louis are officially best friends. He requested that he stay a second night, but I said I had to pass it by you first.” 

“God, you don’t have to.” Thomas urged, and Jimmy felt a stab of regret at the idea this might be his last night alone with Thomas for god knows how long. 

“Well.” Jack looked about each room as he passed, as if hoping to see something different from the night before. “It’s cleaner, that’s for certain. But still no furniture?” 

“We’re about to take care of that.” Thomas assured him. “We just need our coats- and Jimmy’s shoes-“ Thomas gestured helplessly though to be fair his own shoes had only been jammed on his feet so that the laces flopped uselessly about on the floor like two tiny black snakes. 

“I’ll go with you.” Jack declared, and just like that he popped his trilby hat back on his head to make his way for the stairs once more, “See if I can’t get you a percentage off.” 

“Jack, I like you.” Thomas mused, no doubt impressed with the way that Jack did business. As far as Jimmy’s reckoning Jack had simply been born with a silver tongue. As a matter of fact, Albert (Jack’s brother) seemed to possess one too. It clearly came from their mother, an aging black woman with a heavily wrinkled face who’d constantly looked like she’d smelt something foul. Despite being a woman of color, she was not a stranger to privilege and would have gotten on well with Mr. Carson for her line of thinking. 

“We’ll do well, Mr. Barrow.” Jack said from the stairs. “We’ll do well.” 

As soon as Jimmy had tugged on his shoes and Thomas had laced his up properly, the pair of them were out their door to make their way up Wardour Street. Just like before, the entire area was packed with flappers heading for the jazz joint next door along with elderly women collecting antiques from estate sales. Down at the very corner of the Wardour where it intersected with Shaftesbury Avenue, there was a prominent antique shop called Whitcomb’s. it was here that Jack had done business, and he let both Thomas and Jimmy inside to reveal a dusty tomb of ancient treasures. The shop centered around an elevated platform, upon which a man and his desk kept solitary company in the gloom. This was Mr. Whitcomb, and he shook both Thomas and Jimmy’s hands upon being introduced by Jack. His desk likewise doubled as a glass case behind which estate pieces sat such as an emerald brooch and a sterling silver evening tiara. Other rooms about the shop branched off from this main opening, and each room seemed to be categorized by theme. One was books, full of shelves and tombs that made Jimmy sneeze till his eyes became watery. Another room was furniture and nothing but, which made Jimmy jump for joy as he realized that they did indeed sell bed sets with several pieces of furniture for a combined price. There was a room full of paintings and frames, another room with nothing but antique toys, and a final room that had even more furniture which by golly was on sale. 

Like children in a toy shop, Thomas and Jimmy divided their time between the two furniture rooms, looking at one bed set, then another as Jack kept up conversation with Mr. Whitcomb. Jimmy was absolutely taken by a Chinese vintage red and gold canopy bed bench, which would have been a dream if only Thomas were more obliging (the price was too high and he refused to budge). There were other renaissance pieces, things carved and rare, but Thomas seemed dead set that whatever bed set they had it wouldn’t bankrupt them. He’d go from one piece to the next, only to look at the price, sigh, and walk on. In the far corner of the room, however, tucked against the wall by a matching bureau and framed mirror, Jimmy spotted a conservatively carved bed set that simply called to him. He paused at its base, looking at the tag to see that it was a French Antique Henry II Style Bed Frame. In his eye, it was priced well at fifteen pounds, and came with both the bureau, mirror, and two matching night stands. He caught Thomas looking over a metal bed frame that made his skin crawl, and tugged him dramatically over to the Henry II, begging him to look it over. Thomas mused it over, displeased with the price, but certainly friendly with the style and the enormity of the sale (it crossed off four items from their list for gods sake). It finally took both Jack and Mr. Whitcomb to talk some sense into Thomas, for apparently the bed set had sat in the corner for so long that Mr. Whitcomb was desperate to get it out and willing to give it to them for thirty percent off if only they would take it today. When Thomas finally shook Mr. Whitcomb’s hands, Jimmy could have jumped for joy, and immediately ran his hands over the wood lovingly as if it were a family pet or old friend. He could almost see it in their bedroom now, making fine company with their wardrobe and veranda. 

They then moved on to the problem of a sofa, which was no easier to tackle than the bed. Some sofas were far too gallant and pricey, and Jimmy despised them on base principle because they were ghastly and offered no practical comfort. Others were just god awful covered in rich fabrics of garish violet or canary yellow. It made Jimmy want to puke, and he started doubting they’d ever find a suitable sofa at all until Thomas caught him by the arm and tugged him out of the room entirely and back into the main hall where a chesterfield patchwork leather sofa sat tucked between a standing case full of antique pocket watches and a side table holding lace doilies in a box. It was clearly meant for customers to sit on, which meant that it was comfortable, and both Thomas and Jimmy plopped down onto it to test it out. It was warm, deep, and could easily double for a bed with the right blanket and pillow. 

Yes, needless to say it was a keeper…. ten pounds and all. Best of all, she was part of a suite though they couldn’t quite afford her brother armchairs yet. In an act of good faith, Mr. Whitcomb agreed to set both pieces aside if they were willing to put down a percentage on the spot. With the promise of a heavy pay day coming up, Thomas parted with four more shillings easily, and begrudgingly admitted that they would have to dip a toe into Elvira’s funds. 

With the final note in his hand, Jimmy poked his head through each room of the antique shop while Thomas and Jack rang for a moving cart and oversaw the loading of their new furniture. Left to his own devices, Jimmy trotted through room after room to sigh upon pricy paintings and bizarre pottery that made no sense. With a certain reluctance he drew away from the art gallery to concede defeat until he noticed the room full of children’s toys… and its one grand window therein. Hanging upon the upper ledge to glimmer in the sun was a dazzling collection of stained glass dripping in all sorts of charms from birds to beads to fruits and flowers. One sun catcher sported a blue bird, with a swollen red breast and its wings stretched out to the sky. Jimmy didn’t know why exactly, but it moved him. There was something oddly freeing about that little blue bird, like the sky was the limit and he was determined to know how high he could go. Jimmy had often had the same feeling when he was in Thomas’ arms… and was gleeful to find that it was a pound. After their thirty percent reduction, Thomas was deeply relieved to find that they had six pounds left to use, and pocketed it with care as if he thought a sudden gust of wind would blow all his money away. Meanwhile Jimmy continued to cradle his new little glass blue bird, thinking he might do well to hang it up in their living room window where the light would hit it best. The pair of them shook Mr. Whitcomb’s hand one last time, then made their way back to the flat with a cart full of furniture in tow. 

It took quite a bit to get the furniture down the street though it was hardly fifteen hundred feet. The fact of the matter was the street was packed with cars parked on either side, and by the time the cart had finally gotten down to 36 Wardour it was almost noon and Jimmy was starved. He didn’t like to say he was deemed useless by Thomas and Jack, but so forward thinking were they that by the time he’d gotten around to clambering off the cart and hanging up his little blue bird, the pair of them were already making plans on how to get the furniture off the street and inside the house. Jimmy tried to help, offering to take one edge of the settee or perhaps a part of the bed set, but Thomas and Jack wouldn’t listen. Jack instead gave Jimmy a crisp note and told him to get and get lunch for the three of them at the Café Marquée. By the time Jimmy had ordered them sandwiches, crisps, and lemonade, Thomas and Jack had gotten all the furniture off the cart, up the stairs, and into the appropriate rooms. 

Which was nice, because Jimmy didn’t have to break a sweat. 

Jimmy arrived just as Thomas and Jack were shoving the mattress onto the now set up bed frame, and though she was as of yet still unclothed by sheets she looked more to Jimmy like a throne than ever. He felt proud of his bed frame choice, and considered her the best option in the whole of Whitcomb’s… a fine Henry II bed. Bet of all, they now had a bureau and a mirror to go with it, which Jimmy promptly propped atop the bureau to lean gently against the wall. Thomas set their lone oil lamp on one of their bedside stands, and as Jimmy stood back to survey all their hard work by the door, he could not help but feel an incredible burst of affection in his chest. 

Which was squished like a bug when Thomas and Jack ordered him to go to the general store to finish since they’d moved all the heavy furniture. 

At least the patchwork chesterfield looked damn good in front of the fireplace. 

Jimmy trotted on down to the general store, prompting a rousing chorus of laughter from the elderly attendant when he realized Jimmy was back for even more supplies. Jimmy purchased carbolic soap, more rags, coconut milk shampoo, and another oil lamp. For the hell of it, Jimmy also purchased a canvas bag and decided he would furthermore use it as a tote to and from the apartment. Next door at the grocers, Jimmy bought tea, bread, cheese, salted ham, cans of beans, apples, lemons, a tiny jar of honey, eggs, a small bag of sugar, and even some carrots. What was more, Jimmy registered 36 Wardour to receive daily shipments of milk, which would at least ensure they had something to drink with their tea. Jimmy sorely wished that he could buy more groceries, that he could stuff their pantry and refrigerator with food… but he still had more things to buy and knew Thomas would be displeased with him enough as it as. 

Unbeknownst to Thomas, Jimmy had brought along with him ten extra pounds, a sampling that he had been meaning to bet on the ponies right up until Thomas had urged him not to gamble until they were settled with a better safety net. Now Jimmy wanted to buy something substantial instead, and so he took his little canvas sack and walked across the street to a cloth shop he’d seen only yesterday while going with Thomas to the general store for the first time. Inside there was molding smell that made Jimmy want to sneeze again, but he pressed forward into the gloom to find an elderly woman holding shop with two other women who might have been her grand daughters. They were cutting bolts of cloth, folding them and sorting them away into a section of cubby holes on the wall behind. Jimmy couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and instead ventured forward without aid into a back corner of the shop where a row of large patchwork Durham quilts were hanging on a sort of elongated clothes horse. One in particular caught Jimmy’s eye- a dark red that reminded him immensely of Thomas’ curtains back at Downton. The careful fabric markings were in beautiful floral shapes, heavy with down and good for warmth. Jimmy purchased it along with plain sheets for a queen sized bed, bath linens, and pillows… his final expense for the day, and one that he was quite proud of. Those it would hardly come as a surprise to Thomas, it would still be a surprise from Jimmy, and he intended to make the most of it. He had the entire spread wrapped in crisp white paper and tied up in twine, forcing him to wear it like a backpack out of the store. He was the a sight to see, struggling up the high street with flappers looking at him like he were mental… but it was all worth it to stride through his front door with his canvas bag full of groceries and surprise in tow. Thomas and Jack were now downstairs, eating their lunch upon Elvira’s elevated singing platform, but as Jimmy came through looking like a train hobo both Jack and Thomas choked on their sandwiches. 

“What on earth do you have there?” Thomas demanded, nearly coughing up a long as Jimmy toddled through the front door. 

“Never you mind!” Jimmy warned, “Eat your sandwich!” And with that he headed the stairs. It was a little difficult to do, laden down as he was- 

“D’you need help, Jim?” Jack sniggered around a bottle of lemonade. In response, Jimmy flipped him off, and hoped it was sufficient enough explanation that no after being a footman for eight flippin’ years he had it bloody well covered. Upstairs he went like Rip Van Winkle, laden down by his odd little backpack and holding his canvas satchel. Jimmy determinedly set down his sack upon the kitchen floor only to unload his canvas bag on the kitchen counters. He felt very smart indeed until he realized that they didn’t even have teacups for the tea he’d purchased. Grabbing his package again, he grumbled all the way to the bedroom about how bloody poor they were despite having just bought a bedroom suite. Closing and locking the bedroom door (lest Thomas come prowling), Jimmy unloaded his package and tore off the twine to have at the paper beneath. The windows to the veranda spilled light into the bedroom, and Jimmy glanced across the street to see a Chinese immigrant woman taking laundry off the line eye level with their apartment. 

They’d have to put up curtains soon lest they arise suspicion from her. 

Dressing the bed, Jimmy tucked in the corners of the sheets and plumped the pillows, slipping all four of them into their sleeves before laying them prettily at the head of the bed. It looked a right sight now, like a proper little bed, and he felt giddy at the idea of Thomas seeing his surprise purchase as he laid the dark red Durham quilt upon the bed. It was thick but they would no doubt need another blanket for the harsher days of winter. Jimmy stood back to survey his work, unable to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Here was a bed he could be proud of, a bed he could sleep in peacefully. Here was a bed that spoke of Thomas Barrow and his undying strength to push forward to the future. Here was a bed that could lay Jimmy to rest after exhaustive nights of jazz and gin. No more sleeping underneath a piano for warmth. No more sleeping alone. 

It almost made him emotional. What a woman he was turning out to be. 

Irritated with himself and his bloody emotions, Jimmy toddled back downstairs now able to move at speed. Thomas and Jack were still upon the elevated platform, finishing off their sandwiches, and Jimmy joined them happily to hungrily tear into his own. Thomas watched him amused as he practically inhaled his sandwich, and then offered him a half drunk bottle of lemonade which he quickly polished off. 

“What was all that on your back?” Thomas asked. “You looked like a train hobo on the lam.” 

“I’ll try to take that as a compliment.” Jimmy quirked an eyebrow, suppressing a belch from the speed at which he’d eaten his corn beef sandwich, “And as it so turns out I won’t tell you. It’s a surprise.” 

“Cor, Jimmy…” Thomas sighed, the green flecks in his eyes twinkling with mild amusement, “What have you gone and done now.” 

“Oh, thank you Jimmy!” Jimmy put on a haughty voice for heirs, “You’re so very kind!” 

“I never said you weren’t kind.” Thomas warned him, “Though now I am nervous about what’s waiting upstairs.” 

“Well it cost me five pounds and I don’t regret a single brass farthing of it.” Jimmy grumbled in warning. “So don’t get cranky with me.” 

“Five pounds?” Thomas demanded, “What did you buy, the entire general store?” Slightly moody he took up wrappers of their sandwiches to throw them in overflowing dustbin by the door. Jack seemed inspired by this, and suddenly clambered up to begin sprucing their jazz studio. He threw away rubbish in a sack and cleaned the counters, emptying away colored glass bottles for Elvira into a wicker basket that he’d seemed to have brought along from home. Jimmy wondered if she was still making art with the glass, and if she might part with one of her pieces for their new home above. Thomas relaxed against the raised platform, hands behind his head as he closed his eyes lightly. There were sweat stains at his neck and beneath his arms; he’d clearly worked himself like a work horse. Moved, Jimmy reached out to stroke a lock of his hair, amazed at how soft it was without brilliantine to hold it back. 

“D’you want to see your surprise?” Jimmy asked softly. 

“Maybe I’m preparing myself.” 

“I’m afraid a light nap won’t do.” 

“Should I send for a priest?” 

“Most likely.” 

The pair of them headed upstairs, leaving Jack below sweeping the floor to collect any spare bits of rubbish from underfoot. Their trek to the bedroom was cut off as Thomas spotted the goods laid upon the kitchen counters and went to investigate. 

“Ah, excellent.” he murmured with approval, picking up an apple and polishing it upon his shirt sleeve. “This is perfect, Jimmy.” 

“I got us another oil lamp too.” Jimmy added, showing it for Thomas to see. “We can keep it in here till we have more lights.” 

“And you got eggs and cheese?” Thomas said, amazed as he opened the refrigerator. “And milk? Cor Jimmy you thought of everything.” 

“I thought it might do.” Jimmy said, “But we don’t even have teacups for our tea.” He added, glancing wistfully at the package of tea he’d bought in the vain hopes of being proper. 

“Don’t worry about that love.” Thomas urged.” I’ve drank tea out of a beat up sauce pan in the dirt before. I won’t cry over a teacup.” And with that he swooped in to kiss Jimmy upon the cheek.

“I love my surprise.” Thomas murmured softly in his ear, “But I don’t know why it cost five pounds, or all that wrapping to carry it-“ 

Jimmy pulled back, smirking up at Thomas who seemed pleasantly surprised to find how saucy he’d become. 

“It didn’t.” Was all that Jimmy said, gesturing to the hallway. 

Thomas cocked an eyebrow and followed, apple still in hand. Into the dark they went, with Jimmy pausing at the closed bedroom door to offer the handle to Thomas for him to turn. Slightly hesitant, Thomas paused for a moment to catch Jimmy’s eye as if hoping he might give the surprise away before he opened the door. But Jimmy would do no such thing, his lips pursed shut to keep from giving it away as Thomas opened the door and gasped. 

The red quilt seemed to glow with light from the veranda, turning it almost cherry in the sun. With the sheets turned down and pillows plumped, it was like an image straight of Downton’s guest rooms and more than Thomas could stand as he slowly looked back around at Jimmy. He was beaming, his expression practically maniacal as Jimmy shuffled his feet and blushed at the intensity of Thomas’ gaze. 

“S’no need to get so worked up.” Jimmy mumbled, “Just a bed spread-“ 

But before he could finish, Thomas grabbed him around the waist to haul him through the door and throw him unceremoniously onto the bed. Jimmy squalled, his perfect covers now ruined and rumpled as Thomas crashed down upon him and smothered him with a hot kiss. For a moment they were in a tangle, Jimmy fighting to get up and Thomas fighting to keep him down. The apple was squashed painfully between them like some weird egg, eventually ejected to nearly fall upon the floor as Thomas hoisted Jimmy up onto the bed better by the back of his trousers. 

“Mmph-!” Jimmy broke away to flip them, trying to crawl off the bed. He failed, merely getting halfway up with a choked laugh before falling back down. Unfortunately for him with his legs tangled in Thomas’, he slipped and fell right onto the floor with a thunderous crash. Thomas went with him, and the resulting bang was so loud that their oil lamp was nearly unsettled from the bedside table. 

Down below in the jazz studio, Jack looked up at the ceiling. The chandelier was shaking, small specks of dust unsettling from its miniature lamp shades. 

“Lord, they don’t pay me enough.” Jack muttered, continuing to sweep. 

~*~

When Jimmy and Thomas finally re appeared downstairs, it was getting close to five and Jack had made the studio shine. If Thomas’ hair was a bit ruffled and Jimmy’s cheeks slightly flushed, Jack said nothing about it. Thomas was shameless in his actions, having found the red Durham quilt absolutely perfect. Jimmy had more than earned a little quality time with Thomas on the floor, resulting in Thomas nearly smacking his head on the leg of their new Henry II bed frame. It was too risky to make love, even with only Jack Ross downstairs, so Thomas settled instead for the most well thought blow job of his life. Poor Jimmy had had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from making any excess noise, but Thomas was certain Jack had heard Jimmy stamping the heel of his foot onto the floor as Thomas had taken him to the root. 

It wasn’t Thomas’ fault that he lacked a gag reflex, really. 

Back downstairs, Jack greeted them with a quirk of the brow as he polished off Jimmy’s upright piano with an old rag. 

“Re-settled?” Jack asked. If there was the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice, Thomas feigned to acknowledge it. He owed this man far too much already. 

“Jimmy bought a comforter.” Thomas explained as Jimmy puttered across the room and slouched against the bar wall. The vestiges of light drifting through windows to the street were starting to grow dim, a threaten of night, and Jack looked over the top of the piano to glance out on the street which was starting to grow bare as flappers went home and jazz daddies crept to their next bar. Now was the time when actual occupants of the street returned home from work, resulting in an influx of cars that parked on the sides of the street and children in the road. Thomas watched as several women wearing secretarial uniforms got out of a car only to have it drive off. Perhaps they were on a daily commute, going home to their husbands- only that they all entered the same antique shop across the street together. Perhaps they lived above and split the rent. 

“Well I’m glad to know you have a bed to sleep in.” Jack said, turning on his heel to cross the floor back to the elevated platform. He drug over a microphone and began to adjust it’s height with a twist of the wrist. “Because we’ve got practice tonight.” 

“Jack!” Jimmy moaned, off put. He raked a hand through his curly hair, putting it all into disarray as Jack plugged the microphone into an outlet, forcing it to emit a short sharp hiss that was disturbing to hear. 

“Welcome back, Jim.” Jack said, and he reached forward in a warm camaraderie to clap Jimmy upon the shoulder. Jimmy looked significantly sulky, and squatted down to sit upon the stage with his chin in his hand. “Practice. Tonight. Downstairs at seven.” 

“That’s only two hours from now!” Jimmy squawked, looking down at his pocket watch in dismay. Jack was utterly fixed on adjusting his microphone now. He seemed to have forgotten that Thomas and Jimmy were still in the room. 

“Get ready.” Jack advised, voice lilting as he stooped over to test the wires beneath the microphone. “I’m going to practice till it’s time. You two have fun upstairs.” 

Jimmy groaned, staggering up from the stage to stomp upstairs. Thomas followed right after, musing that he could perhaps use the now empty bottle of lemonade to drink tea. Jimmy slumped over the arm of their new patchwork chesterfield, It seemed he was taking a brief nap, and Thomas let him be as he instead washed out his empty bottle of lemonade in the sink and filled up the kettle. He lit both the stove and the fireplace in the living room, eager for the heat to warm the house as night began to encroach. By the time the kettle was hissing, Thomas could hear Jack serenading to himself downstairs and Jimmy was snoring peacefully upon the couch. It was funny to admit that such a sulky little sound was precious to him, but as Thomas carefully poured tea into his glass bottle, he listened intently to Jimmy snoring and smiled. 

There was no way for him to slice the lemon without a knife. He didn’t have a spoon for the honey either. Instead, Thomas ladled in milk into the bottle and pinched in sugar with his fingers. This was the way Jimmy took his tea, not Thomas, so he brought it over to Jimmy who was still sleeping on the couch. In the semi dark with his hand near his mouth, Jimmy looked like an angel and Thomas was loathe to wake him. Still. 

“Jimmy…” Thomas whispered. He reached out and stroked his hair. “Jimmy wake up.” 

He stirred, fitful, and came to. His blue eyes blinked slowly, refocusing upon Thomas before him who offered him up the bottle of tea which smoked slightly. 

“I made you tea.” Thomas murmured, “I put it in the lemonade bottle.” 

Jimmy rubbed at his eyes, sitting up with a small soft yawn to kiss Thomas gently upon the lips. He accepted the bottle of tea and took a sip, wincing at the sing of its heat. Behind them the fire crackled in its hearth, throwing warm light onto the sofa. Jimmy sighed, exhaling a thin trill of steam from the tea in the cool air of evening. 

“Thank you.” Jimmy whispered, “That’s heaven, that is.” 

Below them, there was the sound of the front door opening and closing followed by footsteps. 

“Mm-!” Jimmy suddenly had the urge to speak mid- sip and swallowed hastily, “That must be the others. We ought to go down now before Jack gets hasty.” 

As Jimmy rose from the couch and headed for the door, Thomas followed after him. It all seemed so simple and easy for a moment. Go downstairs, make new friends, sing some songs, then go to bed. But as Thomas opened the door to the downstairs and prepared to follow Jimmy out onto the landing, he was suddenly stopped by the sound of laughter. He hadn’t heard it that much in his life. 

As Thomas listened to the melodious sound, he found himself wondering why it was that laughter had been so rare in his life. He supposed it had something to do with growing up in an unstable household… but then there was more. How many times had he entered the servant’s hall in Downton only to hear the laughter stop? How many times had it been him on one side of the table and everyone else on the other? Anna, Daisy, William, Gwen… all of them glaring at him and. Ms. O’Brien as if they were Satan incarnate. When John had come along it had only gotten worse. God it had gotten to the point where even Mrs. Hughes had despised him- 

And suddenly Thomas was captivated by the ugly memory of Mrs. Hughes snapping at him in the servant’s hall: _“Don’t push your luck, Thomas.”_

“C’mon.” 

Back in the present, Jimmy had extended his hand for Thomas to take, smiling with his bottle of tea in the other. For whatever reason, Thomas suddenly couldn’t smile back, couldn’t move his feet. Couldn’t get over the memory of Mrs. Hughes’ eternal warning: _“Don’t push your luck.”_

If this wasn’t pushing his luck, he was a monkey’s uncle. 

 

“I-“ Thomas broke off, pulling back a little. Jimmy began to frown, setting down his bottle of tea on the landing to straighten back up and look at Thomas’ expression appraisingly, “Maybe you should go down and I’ll come later-“ 

“What?” Jimmy was dismayed, “No. You’re part of the band now. Come on…” He urged, trying for another endearing smile, “They’ll love you.” 

But when had anyone, apart from Jimmy, loved Thomas? There were times when Thomas feared that not even Jimmy loved him, that he wasn’t just having an end to the means to get back to London where the gin flowed and the jazz was hot. The others has only pitied him- Mrs. Hughes, John, Phyllis… No doubt when he’d left a tension had gone with him; Downton was a better place without him. So was London. 

Thomas took another step back. 

“I-“ He shook his head, suddenly feeling incredibly cold despite the fire going in the living room hearth, “I don’t think I can, Jimmy.” 

Jimmy just followed him, taking another step closer, “What’s wrong?” He asked, smile dropping once again. He seemed to realize that Thomas’ sudden reluctance was a warning of a greater error beneath the surface. Yet when Thomas tried to voice his concerns, to explain just why it was that he couldn’t possibly go downstairs to meet a new group of people, Thomas’ tongue began to twist avoiding the subject proper. 

His shame warped his words, “I don’t do well with crowds and-“ But he couldn’t lie to Jimmy, not when he loved him so. 

If he even loved him at all. 

“I… I think I’ve made a horrible mistake.” Thomas blurted out. How could he sing, when he’d never done so before in his life? How could he live in this apartment with Jimmy when he was unworthy of the very bed that they were to sleep in? Worst of all, his words had clearly struck a well of fear within Jimmy, for he was suddenly white with eyes as wide as tea saucers, “I can’t sing-“ 

Jimmy let out a tiny breath, as if relieved, and reached forward to caress Thomas’ clammy face with the sweetest smile upon his own. “But you can-!” He soothed softly. “Oh you can- Thomas-“ Jimmy broke off, hands slipping to Thomas’ shoulders which he grasped gently to look him up and down. “You’re shaking.” 

And it was true. 

Jimmy swooped forward, burying his head in Thomas’ neck to hold him tightly like a blanket to keep out the cold of Thomas’ self doubt, “The bravest man I know scared of a few friendly faces…” 

“But they won’t be friendly for long.” Thomas whispered. The smell of peppermint which so often seemed to permeate Jimmy’s skin and hair soothed him. Desperate for some type of relief from the anxiety that was threatening to consume him, Thomas buried his nose in Jimmy’s curly hair. “As soon as they who I am, they’ll hate me. They’ll-“ 

“No.” Jimmy urged at once, fierce in his determination. “No, they’ll love you and stuff the rest-“ 

There was a sudden hassle of footsteps upon the stairs, light and clicking, followed by the sudden melodious sound of Elvira’s cheerful voice: “Hello, you two! Time to play- oh!” 

She paused, taken aback. Thomas did not even bother to glance over the top of Jimmy’s head, knowing full well Elvira was standing in their doorway watching him shake like a fool. Now his downfall would come, he was certain, and clung to Jimmy terrified of what Elvira would say should she know the man she’d leant fifty pounds to had turned out to be a coward. How would he ever be able to pay her back-? 

“I was just about to knock-“ Elvira murmured, stepping forward so that her voice grew closer, “Is everything alright?” 

“Everything’s fine.” Jimmy mumbled, pulling back after a moment to address her. Feeling incredibly cold, Thomas took a few steps over to the fire, his back to Elvira as he tried to warm himself with the flames. “Thomas is just nervous.” 

 

“I can’t do this.” Thomas blurted out to the hearth. He turned, cutting Jimmy off mid explanation to stare at Elvira. She was wearing a white dress, looking oddly like an angel with a matching feather boa about her neck and pearls dripping to her waist. 

_If God had an image, she would look like you_ , Thomas mused, noting how Elvira’s black eyes were like berries- how she stared at him with curiosity and sympathy not anger or confusion. 

“Elvira, I can’t sing.” Thomas said, his voice trembling slightly, ‘I can’t deal with new people. I’m- I’m sorry-“ 

“Honey…” Like Jimmy she tried for a smile, stepping forward to extend white gloved hands, “Honey don’t be afraid. Why, you act like we’re gonna tar and feather you-!” 

She tried for a laugh. Thomas shook his head unable to see the light, “I can’t sing.” 

“Ducky, we’re gonna train you!” Elvira assured him, her smile somehow only growing wider, “We’re not gonna throw you up on stage the first night!” 

“But- but the Duke’s birthday is at the Criterion-“ Thomas suddenly felt nauseas of the idea of performing for such a massive throng of people. Elvira was still sympathetic, pulling upon his arm with Jimmy at her elbow. The pair of them were urging him toward the door. 

“Ducky, we’ll take that as it comes.” She soothed, wrapping a hand around his elbow to pull him on. He refused to budge, “I can sing for the both of us, yeah?” She offered with a quirky smile, shaking her hips a bit so that her pearls swayed and clinked. Elvira exuded such confidence and class, how could she ever understand Thomas’ fear? “Don’t you be worried.” she urged, but Thomas shook his head, pulling back from her hold so that his elbow slipped out of her grip. She frowned, watching his arm fall. 

“Elvira I- I’m not a good person.” 

Something flashed in Elvira’s eyes, a beacon of recognition as to what was truly going on. In the dawning of her understanding, she adjusted her pearls about her neck and offered Thomas a small smile. For the first time, she looked on him with the slightest of pity. It made him sick. 

“We’ll be down in just a minute.” Jimmy had seen the look of nausea upon Thomas’ face and immediately made to rectify it. How strange it was that as Thomas knew Jimmy’s anxiety, Jimmy understood Thomas’ dark moments. Perhaps in a way, they’d been torn from the same ugly cloth for each other. Unable to fit with another fabric for their muddied threads. 

Elvira seemed sated, though not fully, but she pulled away none the less heading for the door. As the sounds of her shoes upon the floor receded, Jimmy drew a hand through his hair and leaned into Thomas’ shoulder. 

“I’ve failed you.” Thomas felt like weeping, but Jimmy cut him off, waving a hand to touch his cheek and lips. Barely a breath apart from each other, Jimmy rubbed his nose gently against Thomas’ cheek, and kissed him there as somberly as a wife to her parting husband. Thomas closed his eyes at the touch, amazed at its simplicity. 

“I’m going to go downstairs.” Jimmy whispered in Thomas’ ear. “You can follow after at your own pace, alright?” 

“Okay.” Thomas mumbled, though he doubted he’d be following after at all. Perhaps this was Jimmy’s way of letting him off the hook, perhaps not. 

Jimmy was slow in his leaving, his feet almost dragging upon the floor as he came to edge of the stair and looked down it. Thomas regarded him there, halfway in the dark and halfway in the light. 

He wondered how he could make every star so dark, even one that shone like Jimmy. 

Depressed, Thomas turned away, resting his head against the mantle of the hearth. For a moment there was no noise, only the chatter below that filtered up the stairs. Every so often a sharp clear laugh would burst through, followed by “Jimmy, we missed you!”. He was received well by his brothers-in-arms… happy to be home again. It seemed that Thomas was nothing more than his transportation in the end- not even a lover so much as a motorcar that offered him a good ride in more ways than one. 

There were footsteps on the stairs, heavy and firm, clearly not Elvira’s. They were followed by the sound of the door closing, and a dark melodious voice: Jack Ross. 

“Nervous?” 

Thomas looked around, his arm still low on the mantel. Jack was in the doorway, leaning against the sill with his arms crossed over his chest. It was so odd that he looked at ease all the time; Thomas wondered if some people were just born with incredible confidence.

“…Jack…” Thomas ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could just tear it out- simply rip off his whole face and make himself a new man. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve done so much for me, but-“ 

“Look, it’s a lot on the first night.” Jack shrugged, somehow still at ease even as Thomas contemplated jumping out his living room window, “I know. Believe it or not I once had a ‘first night’ too. But we’re not here to judge you. We just wanna hear you sing, and Jimmy swears you’re good. He wouldn’t say that to you if he didn’t think it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t humiliate you when he loves you.” 

These words rang in Thomas’ head, reminding him of nights spent in a dining hall staring at the back of Philip’s head. He’d been but a Junior Footmen, then. Low in rank and quick to be blamed. Once, his superior had spilt wine and still it had been Thomas to clean up the mess, to be called a fool. He could remember Philip pausing his dabbing hand, with the flick of the wrist dismissing the other servant. A simple “That’ll do John”. No excuses, no explanations… and suddenly their party was down a sniping footman. 

Philip had glanced at Thomas as he dabbed up the wine. It seemed in that mere second they’d held an entire conversation. 

That night Thomas went to Philip’s chambers, and by dawn his virginity had been as spilt as the wine. 

Jimmy was the same, Thomas knew it. As much as he ran from his own humiliation, he’d never sought to harm Thomas…. save for that one dark year. 

“C’mon-“ Jack opened the door and gestured to it. “We won’t humiliate you. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it. I promise.” 

“Jack-“ Thomas looked back at the hearth, “I’m a bad person-“ 

“Who said?” He challenged. 

“… Society.” It was a whole enough name anyways for the curse he’d lived under. 

At this, Jack seemed almost humored. He snorted, looking away, and Thomas had to glance back from the hearth to see how Jack looked up at the ceiling with mild amusement. 

“Thomas, I’m black.” Jack said, and though this had always been obvious, in the moment of its utterance Thomas realized what a life Jack must have lead. 

How many people must have spat on him too. 

“People lock their doors when I pass their house.” Jack said, and though he spoke calmly there was a cold detachment in his voice that Thomas had never heard before. It unnerved him. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was so understanding to you being a homosexual?” Jack asked. Thomas pursed his lips, considering that he’d originally believed it to stem from Jack’s enjoyment of Jimmy. Now he knew better. “Maybe I know a thing or two about being told you’re unworthy of happiness.” 

Jack walked aimlessly about the room, pausing at Jimmy’s recently purchased stained glass. The little blue bird hung in the sill, catching the light of the fire and reflecting it about the room. 

“S’like it’s flying into your room.” Jack mused, reaching up to touch it. The light of the fire reflected in the belly of the bird turned Jack’s dark skin a hot copper. He imagine that little bird hopping on Jack’s shoulder, warbling in his ear. Making him smile even when people locked their front doors. 

Thomas looked back at the door, and finally made for it.   
Jack followed him out. 

 

As they descended, Thomas was greeted to the sight of a tight cloister of friends, all centering around the edge of the elevated stage. Elvira had lit the incense burner and was using its smoke to purify the room while another young woman with olive skin and black bobbed hair poured gin for everyone. Jimmy accepted a glass, looking up to see Thomas on the stairwell and breaking into a wide grin. It seemed he’d sent Jack up after Thomas, perhaps knowing that Jack would understand the most. When Elvira saw him, she looked relieved, and immediately poured two more glasses of gin though Thomas knew only one would be drunk. 

“There he is!” Boasted the young woman with bobbed hair. She wore trousers of all things, and a high collared maroon vest, “Finally!” 

Two young men on either side of Jimmy looked around, and both took a keen interest in Thomas. One was a light skinned man of color, with waved hair just like Jack and odd splotches of pale skin upon his hands, neck, and face. Most charming of all were his jaw line and eyes, both unique with a handsome flare that surely must have made him a hit with the ladies. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up and a cigarette behind his ear. The other young man could have passed for the girl’s twin brother, with the same olive skin and dark hair. For some reason, his hair was longer than the girls, tied neatly in a pony tail- it would have given Mr. Carson a heart attack. 

“Wow, nice going Jim.” He sneered, brushing his long hair out of his face as he offered Thomas his hand. Thomas stepped off the stairs at last and accepted the shake, “You got yourself a Valentino.” 

The others laughed, amused, and the man carried on to say, “Percy Taggart. Trumpet man.” he jerked his head over to a forlorn barstool by the edge of the stage where a trumpet sat gleaming upon the wooden seat. 

“Thomas Barrow.” Thomas introduced himself, and let go of Percy Taggart’s hand to shake the other mans. He had a firmer grip Thomas noticed, and his fingers were more calloused. 

“Freddy Alves.” The man said with a pleasant smile, “I’m the drummer. S’good to meet you!” He said, and his tone was quite sincere. 

“How do you do.” Thomas said, worried that he was already making a poor impression and being unkind. Freddy and Percy both seemed to be sated with him, leaving room for the only stranger left to make her way forward. She offered both him and Jack a glass of gin, which Jack downed on the spot with a refreshing breath of relief. Thomas held the glass, unsure of how to best decline the drink. 

“Hilda Taggart.” She said, and Thomas bowed his head to her with his hands full, “I’m Percy’s sister. I break the laws of god and man on my saxophone.” She eyed him up and down, taking in his high cheekbones and broad shoulders. 

“Of course, you already know me!” Elvira said sweetly from the counter, toasting him silently with her glass of gin and taking a healthy sip. 

“Who doesn’t know you.” Hilda sneered, glancing a little over her shoulder amused. 

“And I am the leader of this fine adventure.” Jack finished off, taking Thomas’ own glass of gin in hand and throwing it back. Hilda looked scandalized till he finished off, “Thomas doesn’t drink, Hilda. Welcome to the Jack Ross Band.” He winked, setting Thomas’ emptied gin glass next to his own on the bar stool next to Percy’s trumpet. 

“So, you gonna sing for us tonight?” Hilda offered, her smile turning just the slightest bit saucy. Thomas could already tell from her trousers that she was the type to push buttons if she could. 

“Hey-“ Jimmy spoke up for the first time amid tickled chatter, “How about we not eat him alive in the first ten minutes-“ 

“Oh we’ll leave that to you, Jim.” Hilda sneered, making Jimmy scowl as she returned to the counter next to Elvira who was playing idly with her strands of pearls, “We know all about the Tenacious Thomas Barrow!” 

And at this, she and Elvira broke into a wild howl of laughter, slapping their knees and ribbing each other. Jimmy turned a hot shade of pink, his expression screwing up with irritation as he set down his gin glass on the floor and folded his arms over his chest. 

“Tenacious?” Thomas asked, quite confused as to how that adjective had gotten pinned to his name. 

“When Jimmy told us about your beautiful love story we made a ballad for you.” Hilda explained, “The Tenacious Thomas Barrow.” 

“Y-you did?” Thomas spluttered, amazed that someone would both make a ballad for his love and openly speak of his love without shame. Thank god for women who wore pants. 

“Do you want to hear it?” Hilda grinned. 

“Oh for gods sake, no.” Jimmy threw up his hands and turned away, stomping over to his piano to sit down at the stool. He swiveled about, brooding. 

“I mean-“ Thomas could not help but grin, suddenly dire to hear the song, “Yes. Yes I do.” 

“Alright boys!” It was all the ticket Elvira needed. She pulled way from the counter, stepping up onto the elevated platform and adjusting the hot microphone to her stouter height. “Let’s strike it up! Jimmy, spin me a tun on that piano!” 

Percy took up his trumpet, allowing his sister to take his seat and moving empty gin glasses to the floor. Her saxophone was tucked against the wall, a large brassy instrument that seemed to make her weary and in need of a chair as she held it. Jack just relaxed against the counter, taking Elvira’s place while Freddy scooted around them all and sat down amongst his drums. He look like a man swallowed in an ocean of leather and steel, his little sticks clacking together as he fiddled with his grip. 

“No!” Jimmy grumbled, unwilling to play even as everyone else waited for him. “I won’t-!” 

“I’ve got your card, ducky!” Elvira warned, and Jimmy scowled even deeper as he reluctantly put his hands upon the ivory keys. “Now play your mother a song!” 

“Stupid jazz band.” He grouched to the piano. Thomas could do nothing but grin, slinking back against the wall to stand next to Jack. Elvira smacked her heel upon the elevated platform, holding one gloved hand up high. 

“Keep it hot, boys. Key of ‘F’.” Elvira commanded. Thomas waited, breathless as everyone put their hands to their instruments, waiting for her command. 

Elvira threw down her hand, and suddenly the air was full of noise. 

_“Yeah!”_ Elvira cried out, her voice exploding into the air. It was like a chorus of angels, as beautiful and grand as any a voice had ever been. No wonder Elvira was a jazz singer, she was born for the life! Thomas’ jaw fell open with amazement, truly wowed by her talent in that moment. She looked around as Jimmy trilled on the piano and Percy sizzled the air with his trumpet. 

“Mm, ducky play it harder.” Elvira teased, before turning back around to face Thomas and Jack and singing again, _“Ye-a-ah!”_

“Wow.” The word fell dumbly from Thomas’ mouth at the beauty of it all. 

Freddy struck up on the drums, and so they were off: 

_“That tenacious Thomas Barrow, I knew him as a slave for love - well his eyes they burned like lightening, and his his voice was like a dove!”_ Elvira sang. Utterly embarrassed, Thomas clapped a hand over his eyes and tried not to laugh. His cheeks were burning hot by this point. _“Well I stole his heart like rubies, and wooed him with my cards; he was sick, that slave for love- and soon I owned his heart.”_

Now Jimmy took off, playing gayly upon the piano and leading the charge. Hilda and Percy followed his lead, able to both synchronize their notes as well as take on solos when prompted. Their talent was clear, an obvious reason to why they’d been put in the Jack Ross Band. Meanwhile, somehow, Freddy kept it all in time at the back; he was practically the spine of the whole song. 

Jimmy-   
Well. Jimmy was just Jimmy. No more need be said. 

_“That sweet slave of love, I broke his every chain- and his eyes kept burnin like lightening- but now never with pain!”_ , Elvira teased, wagging a gloved finger at Thomas and Jack. Jack snorted, looking down at his shoes for a moment to shake his head amused. Thomas could not stop grinning. 

_“Yeah he stole my soul like rubies, and wooed me with his heart.. and now I’m sick- I’m a slave for love- and we’re never to part!”_ Elvira finished off, and just like that she threw her hand down to end the song on a wild brassy note. Jimmy ended the whole thing with a rather discorded sound as he smacked his head onto the ivories and hid it beneath his arms, clearly very embarrassed to have his song revealed. But Thomas was as proud as punch in that moment, and began to applaud without any prompting. Elvira bowed a little upon the stage, quite modest for her unbelievable talent. Jimmy was still grouchy at teh piano even as Hilda, Percy, and Freddy all bowed their heads. 

“C’mon baby!” Elvira teased Jack, “applaud like you mean it.” 

“Encore!” Jack cried out, taking an upside down gin glass and smacking it hard onto the counter in a form of applause. 

“Jimmy wrote the lyrics.” Hilda teased from her chair. 

“Shut up Hilda!” Jimmy howled, yanking his head off the piano. “Would you stop having a go at me!?” 

“I loved it!” Thomas declared, still beaming in spite of himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Jimmy, your lyrics are wonderful! That was the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard!” 

Jimmy flushed at the piano, looking down at his shoes as he shrugged his sloping shoulders. He looked rather shy in that moment, tapping one finger onto the piano keys to stroke them into a soft tune. 

“S’pose it’s not all rubbish.” He admitted softly. Thomas resolved in that moment to make his pleasure much more obvious the minute they were alone. For now, only words would be able to do. 

“S’beautiful.” Thomas corrected him. “Just like you.” 

The others made ridiculous preening noises, quite amused by his display of affection. Jimmy looked both horribly embarrassed and pleased at the same time, flushing as he ducked his head. But Thomas spotted a smile upon his carved lips and knew that deep down he was pleased. 

“Now you’re turn!” Elvira urged, using the good mood as a bridge to get Thomas up onto the stage. A fit of nerves swooped into Thomas stomach again and he frowned as she gestured to the microphone. 

“Oh god,” Thomas fumbled, “I- I don’t know-“ 

“Don’t worry.” Jack assured him, clapping him easily upon the shoulder, “We’ll do something easy-“ 

Thomas stumbled onto the stage, suddenly feeling like he was under a very bright spotlight as Elvira adjusted the microphone and backed off to step near the counter with Jack. Thomas watched as Jack wrapped his arm around Elvira’s waist, cupping her close like she were a precious jewel. 

“Wait!” Jimmy spoke up from the piano, snapping his fingers and turning around on his stool. Everyone looked to see what he would say, “The other night at Downton you sang _After You’ve Gone_. Sing that! We’ll do the whole number this time.” 

This was feasible. Thomas knew the words and the chords, but he highly doubted he had the talent to pull it off as Jimmy and Jack had upon the record Jimmy had sent last year. 

“ _After You’ve Gone_.” Jack nodded, impressed by the selection, “Good times. Take it when you’re ready.” 

Thomas stared at Jack mute for five solid seconds before Jack spoke again, this time in a gentler voice. “You know how it starts. The singer begins alone with a small bit of piano. They’ll follow you in, they know the number. Don’t worry, no one’s going to judge you.” 

Thomas looked from Jack and Elvira who were waiting, to Jimmy who was still blushing at the piano. To Hilda and Percy who just looked eager to play again, and to Freddy who was still smiling kindly at the drums. 

“Sing to me.” Jimmy requested. Thomas turned back around, noting that Jimmy’s blush was almost gone now. He was calm, in control, though god knows Thomas was not, “Pretend we’re back at Downton and sing to me.” 

Thomas looked back around the room again, unsure. Jimmy cut him off by speaking up again, “Sing to me, Thomas.” 

He supposed there was only one thing to do. 

Thomas opened his mouth, the air quivering inside. A deep quiet had filled the room, waiting for him to fill it. It reminded him of the very first crystal goblet that Thomas had ever filled as a hall boy under Mr. Burland’s instructing eye. How his hand had shaken with fear, nervous of upsetting his master and losing his position. 

He’d done neither, and by the end of the week no longer trembled in the dining hall at all. 

“… I am so sorry if this is awful.” Thomas apologized, bowing his head and taking the microphone in one hand. He leaned in and prayed for a swift end: 

_“Don’t you remember how you used to say, you’d always love me in the same old way, but now it’s very strange… that you should ever change.”_ He began, looking only at Jimmy at the piano who was grinning slyly and trilling softly at the keys to keep time with him though only hitting a few notes. The beginning was far from brassy. 

_“Sometimes I think someone has won your heart, tempted you away… but let me warn you though we’re miles apart… you’ll regret… someday… My darling…”_ He kept his eyes on Jimmy, mindless to how the saxophone and drum set struck up behind him. He dared not look at Elvira nor Jack, could not bear to see the disappointment in their faces. Instead he kept staring at the side of Jimmy’s face, eyes burning into his skin as the song carried on higher and hotter. With each lyric and note, Thomas’ voice went. He sang loudly, though he doubt he sang well, and as he finished out with a wild flare of brass, drums, and piano. Thomas felt like he was screaming by the end of it and when the song was finally over he all but flung himself away from the microphone to hide his face in his hands. He stumbled off of the stage, unable to hear the way Elvira and Jack were both screeching like cats. No doubt booing him. 

“That was fantastic!” Elvira screamed, and suddenly she leapt forward to grab Thomas about the neck. Though it was hardly proper she kissed him upon the cheek, marking him with her scarlet lipstick. “That was wonderful- yes, ducky you can sing!” She praised, squishing his face in her gloved hands. Behind Thomas, Jack clapped him warmly upon the back, “You can sing! You absolutely can sing! You just need a little training, that’s all!” 

At the piano, Jimmy staggered up to applaud Thomas with the others. Thomas had never been so embarrassed in his life, so openly praised. He was a stranger to such types of affection. 

“Encore!” Jimmy cried out just as Jack had done for Elvira. “What a man!” 

_A man could get used to this_ , Thomas mused, watching as Elvira leapt onto Jimmy to kiss him sweetly upon the cheek as well. Jimmy accepted it, wearing his lipstick mark proudly. Jack just kept his hand on Thomas’ shoulder, rubbing at the stiff muscles with strong hands. 

“Welcome to the Jack Ross Band.” Jack said, as good a job offer as he’d ever seen.   
Though Thomas doubted he’d ever stop shaking with this one.


End file.
